The Underground
by Badpenny232
Summary: AU Hobbit/Police- When DCI Thorin Oak receives a note from the allusive P.I. he finds his world turned upside down in the hunt to find the missing accountant W. Bilbo. Baggins. Thorin's only chance is to find Bilbo before it is too late in the hope that he will discover his Grandfather's killer and solve the mystery of "The Massacre of the Erebor Hotel,"- eventual Thilbo
1. Chapter 1

**Thursday 20****th**** November- 2:45 am**

Thorin pulled his coat tighter, fighting to keep the warmth in his body as biting wind and rain from chilled his bones. Taking another long drag of his cigarette, he glanced down the long dark empty street as a train rattled over head, its brakes scream before rattling away again.

_Ponies Bridge, Camden, 2:00 am- G .PI. –_Was all the note had said but still Thorin knew exactly who it was from. Damn him to hell! It was now 2:45 am, it was raining and he was running low on cigs, but yet still he waited in the semi darkness, the only light provided by a flickering street lamp that.

Normal people would have been asleep, or whispering sweet nothings into their lover's skin, or on the sofa with a scotch and watching a late night monster movie. But no! He was here freezing his bollocks off, waiting for that fucking PI to turn up out of the blue. He looked down as he watch flashed blue. 3:00 am.

_Fuck this!_ Thorin thought, turning on his heels and began marching down the dark street, when a large imposing figure dressed in a grey trench coat appeared at the end. _Fuck him! _

"You're late," Thorin growled at the man. Stepping into the light of the street lamp, Gandalf P.I. looked down at Thorin with brilliant blue eyes that, though the man was only 65, he had always seemed much older to Thorin.

"Detective Chief Inspector Oak, I will have you know that I am never later," Gandalf said dryly, blowing a smoke ring with his own cigarette and flicking it away. "But I am glad you came."

"You know most people use the telephone, or text, or even email,"- lack of sleep always made Thorin snappy, which recently had been happening an awful lot.

"This is no time to be sarcastic. This is serious, I don't know how high up this goes but I can tell this is big. Bigger than either of us can imagine, big enough to kill for," Gandalf sombrely popping another cigarette into his mouth and giving Thorin one as well, then lit both with a match which he tossed away.

"I didn't think you'd come to me if it wasn't serious, what have you got yourself into this time?" Thorin asked sternly, squaring his shoulders to look up at the man. Thorin had always been tall and his muscled frame and years spent in the army gave him an aura of authority that seemed to add to his height but Gandalf was one of the few people who could had to look down at him being well over 6.6.

"It's not what I've got myself into, it's what Bill's got himself into," Gandalf grinned ruefully, before producing a brown paper file from inside his coat and pushing to into Thorin's hands. Without a word, Thorin began flicking through the meticulous file, written in Gandalf's slanted hand writing, the file documented everything, that one "William Bilbo Baggins,", ate, read, drank, did and went. Thorin looked up and arched his eyebrow.

"William Bilbo Baggins?" Thorin smirked.

"He prefers just Bill, me and his mum were friends in the 60's," Gandalf chuckled, knocking some ash of his cigarette and shaking droplets of rain of his shoulders.

Thorin skimmed through the report ; an accountant by trade, first in his class from the University of Bree, from an important family who ran a chain of gardening centres, disowned at 25, 221 flat B Shire street Knightsbridge London, single, no children, sexuality unknown.

"So what's he done?"Thorin asked, wanting to hurry up the meeting along.

"It's what he hasn't done!" Gandalf snapped suddenly, betraying his concern. "Two weeks ago I get a phone call from him, saying he'd found something, something that was odd-"

"What kind of "Odd"?" Thorin interrupted.

" He wouldn't say, he said eyes watching and ears were listening. Next day I get another call, this time he was panicked, absolutely terrified, just kept jabbering that I should watch my post box. I said I'd pick him up but he wouldn't hear of it. We organised to meet at here at 12:00am last Sunday. He didn't show, so I waited and waited, and as you may of guessed he still didn't show." Gandalf rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger, for the first time Thorin noticed the bags under the P.I.'s eyes and the smell of stale coffee.

"I'm guessing you've made your own enquires," Thorin added quickly, growing more and more interested by the second. Gandalf let out a hacking cough and cleared his lungs with another drag of his cigarette.

" And all I got was massive pile of dead ends and a ransacked office, all my files shredded and spray paint over the walls," Gandalf dragged his hand over his tired face and knocked ash of his cigarette.

"Vandals?"Thorin asked intrigued, knowing the answer already and that his question was stupid.

"Do vandals really write things like "drop the case or face the consequences." No they do not," Gandalf retorted darkly. Thorin's eyebrows rose in surprise, a missing accountant was one thing but death threats to a man who even Thorin considered dangerous, alarm bells started going off in his heard but he kept his voice calm.

"And you think something's happened to him," Thorin concluded. Gandalf nodded slowly before reaching into trench coat, he pulled out a small plastic pumpkin. Thorin took the tiny pumpkin and held it up to the street light, on closer inspection it turned out to be a novelty USB drive.

"This arrived on my desk Tuesday morning, he likes growing things," Gandalf shrugged before turning his old blue eyes onto Thorin. "Just look into it for me. Killin' an old git like me is nothing to whoever we're dealing with but a member of Scotland Yard is a different matter entirely. If you find something open a case and if you don't ... Do this for me and your slate will be cleared, you won't owe me anything."

_Damn him_! He knew Thorin wouldn't be able to say no, his debt to Gandalf was too great to ever really pay off in parking tickets. In one desperate hour of need, suddenly Gandalf's number was the only one he could have called, one favour that had kept his family together when it was being ripped apart.

"What if he's dead? With no official case, what am I suppose to do then? Call the morgue and explain where I found this body that I wasn't supposed to be looking for?!" Thorin growled, stamping on his cigarette butt.

"He won't be dead, he is a remarkable person. Bill will be alive and that USB is the key to finding him, I have faith in you Detective." Gandalf said matter-of-factly, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

**Friday 21****st**** November- 11:12 am**

The next morning, Thorin slammed the door of his car shut and looked up at the three story Victorian house. Knightsbridge was a nice and expensive area of London, even Shire Street Thorin noted had at least two Austin Martins parked on it. It was too expensive for a mere accountant but with his old university friend Mr Hamish Fast owning the building, it appeared that Bill Baggins qualified for "mates rates."

Reaching the door, Thorin studied the names on the call box. Mrs Lobelia Sackville lived in the basement flat, her name was written in pink biro and dotted with hearts, the other two flats appeared empty except for Bill and the landlord. Pressing the button, he waited for Mrs Sackville to pick up.

"Who is it?!" A shrill voice snapped through the speaker, late middle aged, living alone and without children Thorin deduced quickly.

" I am sorry to disturb Mrs Sackville. I am Detective Chief Inspector Oak from Scotland Yard and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" He made his voice soft and velvety, turning his blue brooding eyes to the tiny camera at the top of the call box, he wasn't called the Granny Charmer in the office for nothing.

"_Oh!... _My why didn't you say so dear, me leaving you out in the cold like that, how very rude of me. Do please come down and see me," Mrs Sackville gasped and flustered. Thorin quickly descended the flight of stone steps and then down another to the basement flat, to see Mrs Sackville awaiting him at the door. Her eyes roamed over him and he cringed inwardly as the old women mentally undressed him.

"Do please come in..." She opened the door wide but faltered, grasping for his name. Reaching into his thick woollen coat, Thorin pulled out his badge and flashed his picture.

"Detective Chief Inspector Oak," he finished for her, smiling charmingly as he ducked his head and entered the flat.

It still amazed him, even after nearly ten years on the force, that old women were still better at surveillance than the police were. Over the next thirty minutes that Thorin spent in Mrs Sackville's flat, a ginger tomcat on his knee and a cup of tea getting cold in his hand, he learnt a great many things about Bill Baggins. Firstly that Lobelia didn't care for him very much because "he had that shifty look about him,", and secondly that he kept to himself. He was a quiet chap, worked over time most weekdays and went into the office on a Saturday. He worked as an accountant for a chain of grocers- "Green thumbs, have you heard of it?"- Thorin hadn't.

"When was the last time you saw Mr Baggins?" Thorin asked politely, being careful not to jostle the cat on his lap as he took his notepad from the inside of his jacket.

"It was last Sunday evening, I know cause' I was putting the bins out for morning. Why what's e' done?" Mrs Sackville asked excitedly, her tea cup rattling slightly.

"Nothing that we know of yet, but I'll let you know when we're certain, I promise you. Now Lobelia if you don't mind me calling you that, how did he seem to you?" Thorin dazzled her with a brilliant smile and she melted like butter.

"_Oh well_, he... he seemed hurried. He dashed by me and sprinted up the street, nearly knocked my bin over e' did. Then back he came again and dashed up the stairs. Very odd, e' ates' exercise, and to go jogging at that time at night, well it's not decent at all it is?" Mrs Sackville leaned forward and looked at him expectantly.

"It's not decent at all Lobelia, not at all," Thorin leaned forward and took her hand in his, "I know I have taken up too much of your time already but I was just wondering if you had a spare key to get up stairs since Mr Fast has gone on holiday, and clearly you are a trustful women," he flattered, keeping his sharp blue eyes on her old dull ones. She actually blushed and went to retrieve a key from under a pink vase, which stood on the mantel piece.

Mr Hamish Fast, Landlord, had given his key to Mrs Sackville for safe keeping while he went skydiving in Fiji and now it was being handed over for a few complements, but without a warrant there wasn't another way of gaining access.

"If more people were like you Mrs Sackville London would be a safer place," Thorin stated as his fingers closed around the key, Lobelia blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.

Leaving the musty flat behind, Thorin shook himself trying to get the slimy feeling off his skin and brushing cat hair off his coat, he entered the building through the main door. There was no elevator, there was no point being just three floors.

Bill lived on the top floor. His door was a highly polished painted dark green, with a golden circular letter box and his name written neatly in gold letters on a plaque – "_W..B Baggins -BA,MA," a_nd a novelty door mat which joked about no admittance unless ready to PAR-TAYY! Thorin failed to see the funny side.

He had hoped that Mr Fast's key would have worked on Bill's door but no such luck. With a shifty look over his shoulder, he pulled his picklocks from his wallet and made short work of the double barrel pin lock and the door swung open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of disinfectant, it was strong and pungent, stinging his nose and catching in the back of his throat. Closing the door behind him, Thorin cast his eyes about. Open plan and spacious, it was completely opposite to Thorin's flat, it was comfortable and homely. He noted one principle armchair next to the fireplace with an expensive tiffany lamp positioned behind, books were neatly stacked on every service and fleecy blankets covered sofas and chairs. The dark wooden floor creaked as Thorin delved deeper into the empty flat to investigate. The wardrobes in Bill's bedroom were empty, but his fridge was full of cream and other foods with exasperation dates, so why would a meticulous man like Bill Baggins go on holiday and leave things to spoil?

_Well, he wouldn't. _Gandalf's fears had been right.

Over the next hour, after pulling on a pair of leather gloves so as not to leave finger prints, Thorin painstakingly went through every scrap of paper he could find. If Mr Baggins had a laptop or computer, Thorin couldn't find it, though if his suspicions were correct it had probably been destroyed by now. Heating bills, letters from a school friend in Scotland and his nephew, receipts for books but nothing to indicate what type of trouble Bill had got himself into. In a last ditch attempt Thorin went to the fireplace and using a penknife, searched the cold ashes of the fire.

Soot drifted into his eyes, making him have to blink away tears but that didn't stop his sharp eyes picking out one scrap of paper from the mountain of ash. Barely a centimetre square, the tiny scrap was a ripped off the corner of a page, and on it were two words that froze Thorin's blood.

_Red Dragon- _After an hour of looking through Bill's paperwork, Thorin recognised his cramped loopy handwriting, but still he moved to the lamp to get a closer look.

Letting out an annoyed snarl when the tiffany lamp wouldn't work, he half jogged to the hallway and held the scrap of paper up to the light. Yes, _Red Dragon_, it said it clearly in black and white.

Thorin could barely contain himself, he dashed out the flat, flicking the lights off and slamming the door shut on his way out. He was halfway to his car when he remembered Mr Fast's key, growling in frustration, he leaped down the basement steps and pushed it through Mrs Sackville's post box. Before sprinting back to his car, blaring out his siren and racing across London with the accelerator flat on the floor.

**Saturday 22****nd**** November- 9:03 am**

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit," Dwalin said gruffly, putting a cup of strong black coffee next to Tom's elbow, and perching on the edge of his desk. Dwalin Fundinson was always first one in the office since he only lived a couple of streets away, but since Thorin hadn't left his desk since the night before he was first in.

"Cheers," Thorin rasped, sitting up and dragged a hand over his stubble. He took a sip of the scolding hot coffee and savoured the bitter taste, lighting his first cigarette of the day, he leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend. "You haven't have happened to see Doris this morning?" Doris, or Dr D Doris was the head of autopsy, his younger brother Olly had just joined the narcotics squad and his older brother Nori was something in surveillance.

"Coarse I ain't why..." Dwalin's words dropped away as he saw the report sitting under Thorin's mug and he snatched it before Thorin could even protest. "No Sarg', come on not this again. How many times have you gone through this file? A hundred, more?" Dwalin growled, moving to the window and closing the blinds, so that no one in the office could see them. He turned to eye Thorin balefully and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "Come on Thorin, you cannot do this to yourself again,"

They had met at the Academy nearly ten years ago, from the very first day Dwalin had Thorin's back as much as Thorin had his; drinking partners and professional partners, Dwalin Fundinson could recognise Thorin's dark moments and knew the memories that were playing around his skull.

Thorin pushed his chair from his desk with an exasperated sigh and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the top draw of his desk. He poured two large shots out in plastic cups and held one out for Dwalin.

"It's only nine o'clock," Dwalin said dryly, savouring his first sip of single malt.

"It's a nine o'clock problem," Thorin retorted, screwing the top back on and hiding it away in the draw again. Dwalin waited patiently for a better explanation. Thorin finished his whiskey and threw the plastic cup in the bin.

"I was looking into something for Gandalf," Thorin paused as Dwalin swore, there was no love lost between the two, "- a family friend of his has gone missing. He was suppose to meet him last Sunday evening after some panicked phone calls but guess what, he never shows."

"That doesn't sound so serious," Dwalin commented, tossing his cup in the bin.

"Not until Gandalf gets his office turned over and a new Banksy on his wall. The accountant, Bill Baggins, hasn't been seen in a week and all his clothes are gone." Thorin stated evenly, glancing at the notes he made from Mrs Sackville.

"Well, he's probably on holiday or off with a girl or something," David shrugs coldly. A holiday was usually the first explanation for these types of cases, without any other evidence to suggest foul play, they couldn't even file a missing persons report, let alone mount an investigation.

"No, not the type. I think he's a bit anally retentive, you now the type that doesn't leave the house without a hanky. And then I found this," Thorin gets to his feet, crossing the room in two strides and pulling out the plastic evidence bag from inside his jacket.

"Fuck it," Dwalin swore under his breath as he took the bag and held it up to the light. "So that's why you're dragging out the old skeletons, for a scrap of paper!" Dwalin kept control of his voice, but Thorin could tell he was barely controlling his anger as he slapped down the file on the desk, throwing paper work over the floor. Thorin eyed his friend, then stooped down to pick up a sheet labelled as "_The Massacre of the Erebor Hotel."_

_"_Detective Inspector Fundinson, Dwalin, I don't need to tell you how long I've looked for a lead on my grandfather's death. This could be my chance, will you not let me have that?" Thorin's brilliant blue eyes met Dwalin's gold irises levelly, they shared a moment of silence until Dwalin looked away and nodded.

"I'll take over the Luin case until you've got something concrete on this,"-Dwalin turned the door nod, pulling it open he turned back to his friend, "but have a shower or something, you look like shit."

Thorin cracked a smile and threw a stapler at the door making Dwalin make a hasty retreat.

_Pleasant as always. _

His smile fell off his face as he let his eyes settle on the SOC photographs that had fallen on the floor, his grandfather's eyes stared blankly at him with blood coming out of the hole in his head and brains splattering the wall behind him.

_Soon he'd know, soon he'd get the blood he was owed. _

**Saturday 22****nd**** November – 10:37am**

"Yeah, can I get those files rushed...yeah ASAP. I... I know you're busy Sergeant Bombur, can't you just-" Thorin was arguing down the phone when there was a light knock on the door and Fili peeped round the door, Thorin waved him in, "-listen, I tell you what. I'll do you a favour if you do this for me. What favour?" He asked pointed, looking at his nephew desperately for ideas. Fili pulled up the blinds and pointed at a young female Constable handing out tea and biscuits. " Constable McLif, yes..that one from the Christmas party, rush those files and I'll set you up, you have my word Sergeant." Thorin smiled broadly as he put the phone down and clapped his hands together, springing to his feet and pulling the blinds down, so that Fili would stop looking at McLif's fine legs.

"Focus. The last thing I need is a sexual harassment investigation," Thorin slapped Fili on the head with a SOC report before wheeling back to his desk.

"You're in a good mood, what was it whiskey or vodka before breakfast?" Fili asked dryly before leaning against the filing cabinet and smiling at his uncle grimly. Detective Fili Durinson was a good policemen, loyal and passionate for his work, but he hadn't yet seen the darker side like Thorin had. He didn't know what it was like to see his team shot down or the smell of a rotting corpse, he didn't know what Thorin had been through.

From a young age his nephews had idolised him, more than once he'd caught Fili and Kili trying to sneak into the office. Along with his brother, he was a rising star in Scotland Yard and had even been used as a pinup on Crime Watch. But then again the Vice squad was a different game entirely to CID.

"Very funny, look I need a favour-" Thorin began.

"No." Fili said flatly, squaring his shoulders and turning his golden eyes to meet his uncles.

"What! You ungrateful little shit, one favour that's all I'm asking," Thorin protested loudly, glaring at his nephew who was a good twenty years his junior. But Fili didn't relent.

"That's what you said the last time and the time before that-" Fili said dryly, counting them off on his fingers. Granted Thorin had had a few poor calls of judgement in recent years. He'd had a few sting operations go sour and a busts that hadn't turned up anything but so had a lot of teams. But then again it only added to Thorin reputation with being somewhat hot headed and troubled.

"Ok fine, but this one is only small," Thorin said lightly, getting to his feet and pulling Bill's USB from within the collar of his shirt, he dangled it above Fili hand on the long shoelace he'd tied the pumpkin in to than dropped it into his nephews palm. "-I'm working on something that's not "strictly," on the books yet and was wondering of you could get Kili to have a look at it for me."

"It's a USB, not mission impossible, have you tried plugging it into your computer?" Fili grinned sarcastically as his finger closed around the pumpkin. Thorin was known around the station for his hate of gadgets and once, famously fell asleep during an important meeting on new computer software.

"Don't be an arse, I've already tried that and it's encrypted or something... a little man keeps asking for the password, just give it to Kili and see what he can do," Thorin shot his nephew a withering look as retreated behind his desk. Kili had completely failed at school and college but somehow managed to get into the Academy where he had excelled with decoding and encryptions.

"Alright but I want in on whatever your cooking up and you've got to come over for Sunday lunch tomorrow," Fili stated determinedly and pointed at Thorin, before tucking the USB safely away and opening the door. Only to find nearly barged into Constable McLif on the other side, Fili blushed scarlet before mumbling an apology and making a quick retreat.

"Now back like a bad penny I see, what is it this time? Burglary, arson, old ladies handbags," Thorin joked, making to lit up another cigarette but paused in mid air as he caught sight of the young constable's solemn face. "Fuck, what's wrong?"

McLif cleared her throat and handed over the brown file. "Scale wants to see you in his office right away sir... and I am really sorry." She mumbled, their eyes met for a second, then she turned on her heel and fled the office: leaving Thorin thoroughly confused until his eyes settled on the words on the top of the file.

_Autopsy Report of Gandalf Albus Ian Ericsson P.I,_

_ TOD- Thursday 20__st__ November 9 :00/11:00 Am_


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the emotional turmoil to come. -BADPENNY**

**Saturday 22****nd**** November- 11:14 am**

"And you think they are connected somehow?" Chief Inspector Scale said dryly, his back was facing Thorin as he gazed out the window and down at the car park below. He was a tall man with dark curly hair that was flecked with gray and high cheekbones. He was immaculately dressed in his uniform, and held himself tight with one hand wrapped around his wrist and held at his back.

Thorin had an instant dislike for him the moment he had first seen him seven years ago when he had first taken the post, it was irrational but the man always managed to rub Thorin the wrong way. He didn't like Scale and Scale didn't like him.

"It would seem logical sir," Thorin answered after a moment of thinking through his replies. _Of course they are connected you jumped up Cambridge tosser! -_Didn't really seem appropriate at that moment in time.

"Hmmm," was all Scale said as he turned and sat at his large mahogany desk, glancing absently at Gandalf's file, before stippling his fingers and looking down his nose at Thorin. "I never met Mr Ericson but I have heard he was a good man-"

_Liar_, Thorin thought bitterly but kept silence.

"- and I know his death must have hit you very hard but this case of Mr,"-he glanced at his paper work-" Baggins seems like a dead end to me. With no clothes left in his flat and no note, he's probably just gone on holiday." Scale gave Thorin his PR smile; it didn't suit him.

"When I saw him, he told me his office had been turned over and that he was warned to "drop the case or face the consequences" he was murdered sir, because he was looking for this accountant Baggins," Thorin stated coldly, gripping onto the arms of his plastic office chair to stop himself leaping to his feet.

"Hmmm," Scale said again, glancing at Thorin's report again. "He told you this on Thursday. Well Detective Chief Inspector you we're the last one to see him alive, now doesn't that put you in an awkward position..." Scale said tartly, arching his eyebrow until Thorin responded.

"Yes, it does sir," Thorin replied without emotion.

"Did Gandalf give you anything that would show there was a legitimate case?" Scale met Thorin's eyes for the first time that morning, cold and harsh, a dirty mix of green and blue focused on him like a bird of prey.

"Surely his death is evidence enough," Thorin snapped before he could catch his tongue, as soon as he said it he bit the inside of his cheek. Scale watched him for a few seconds before, getting to his feet and striding round the back of Thorin's chair, resting his large thin hands on his shoulders and squeezing; just enough so it was uncomfortable.

"This a difficult time for you, to lose someone so close to you and after your Grandfather and your father... how long has it been now? Six, seven years?" Scale asked coldly squeezing Thorin's shoulders again. But Thorin didn't react, he wouldn't let himself fall to that level, years of poker with Dwalin had taught him to keep his face void of emotion.

"Ten sir," Thorin's voice was deadpan.

"My,, how time flies," Scale said absently, releasing Thorin and walking back to the window. "I can give this case to Detective Mirkwood if you think you are too emotionally involved to take the lead on this," Scale watched the car park again, his back to Thorin.

"No sir, I'll be fine," Thorin assured him through clenched teeth.

"Very well, you have a week," Scale said and turned when Thorin made a choking noise.

"A week, a bloody week! Why?!" Thorin protested loudly before he was silenced with a raised hand.

"I cannot have the media thinking we dance to Private Investigator's tunes, they would have a field day, bad enough you associate with them at all. I want this business cleaned up, loose ends and paper work on my desk by this time next week. Or may I remind you of our last conversation Detective inspector." Scale lectured, looking down his nose at Thorin.

_Fuck him, _Thorin thought savagely but knowing he couldn't do a thing, as he cast his mind back to their last meeting in June. It had been after a bust had turned into a western style shoot out and couple of uniforms had been wounded, Thorin had been reprimanded and the terrifying word "retirement," had been thrown about repeatedly as a warning.

Thorin got up and nodded silently at his superior, the man he detested more than anything, the bureaucrat who docked their Christmas bonus: taking a deep breath and thinking out his blood pressure, Thorin reached for the door, only managing a very stiff "Good day sir," as he left.

It took two cigarettes and a packet of flying saucers to bring Thorin's temper down. Scale had always been able to get under his skin but after today's meeting something niggled at the back of his mind that he couldn't shake, like an itch that couldn't be scratched but as soon as he felt he had it, it was gone.

But he was working on adrenaline now, the taste of a murder and missing persons was as juicy as they come, Gandalf would appreciate him savouring the chase. Thorin half jogged into the office to find it empty, reminding himself that Dwalin still had the team working on the Luin case, he went to his office to grab his winter coat and Bill's case files. Thorin's long legs made his stride faster than most people's jogs; his long grey coat billowed after him as he marched down the stairs, files under one arm and mobile tucked into the crook of his neck.

"Doris, have you had any John Does come in over the past week?" Thorin asked the Doctor down the phone, turning down yet another flight of stairs. "No? Crikey slow week, can you keep me posted? I'm popping by later, yeah see ya." He tapped the red button and immediately pressed 1# for speed dial.

"Dwalin, yeah we're on. Just seen Scale, bastards only given us a week-" Thorin pulled the phone away from his ear as David swore loudly down the phone "My sentiments exactly. Where are you?... Right, get on the phone with Bifur's Forensics crew; I want a team at Bill's flat and Gandalf's office. When? Don't ask stupid questions, ideally I needed it last Sunday. But get me eyes and ears first; I want Nori on surveillance... Just mention the favour I did for his mum and that should get him on side. Yeah, I'm on way to Bill's now, the address is 221B Shire Street Knightsbridge. Watch out for Mrs Sackville," Thorin put the phone down before Dwalin could reply and smiled at a young Constable who held the door open for him.

Now outside Thorin made his final phone call, pressing 3# for Kili's office, he began to walk to his car as it rang. Thorin was about to put the phone down when Kili picked up.

"Right, tell me you've got something for me?... What do you mean you haven't got to it, you're the bloody Cray twin of the hacking world, what could be so important?!... Fair enough terrorist's hard drive is kind of important. Can you ring me when you're on to it," By this point Tom had reached his car, setting the files on the rusted roof and stuck the key in the lock, "It's the USB- What do you mean "be more specific," ? It's in the shape of a bloody pumpkin ..." The words died in his throat.

Sitting at his feet on the tarmac was a single piece of wire. Green with a single line of yellow, it had been clipped to a neat angle. It was something Thorin was too familiar with from his days in the army. Adrenaline rushed and blood pumped and he threw his body away from the vehicle.

"EVERYONE DOWN!" He bellowed at the top of his lunges just as a wall of hot air and flame kicked him to the ground. He landed on the pavement, hard, and shielded his face as bits of his Honda's roof flew at him.

**Saturday 22****nd**** November- 2:56pm**

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Dwalin asked as he leaped down the stone steps at the front of 221 Shire Street. Thorin had expected an angry torrent of swear words as he pulled up outside Bill's apartment but not for Dwalin to pull him into a bone crushing hug. "What?" Dwalin asked as Thorin mumbled into his chest.

"Can't breathe..." Thorin said a little hoarsely. Dwalin released him and looked at him expectantly. "No offence but you wouldn't believe me if I told you, maybe later," he said tiredly, smiling weakly at his friend, Dwalin nodded slowly before leading the way into the house.

Actually, at this moment in time Thorin was supposed to be in a CAT scan machine being checked out for concussion but he had rolled off the medical trolley and strolled away with frighten ease.

"Sarg' you're not blown up?" DC Gloin said absurdly, flicking his ginger fringe out of his eyes to stare at Thorin as he passed. In the corner of his eye Dwalin batted Gloin round the head with a clip board before following him up the stairs to Bill's apartment.

Flashing his badge at an officer in uniform he advanced up the stairs. Thorin was too stiff and aching to bother ducking under the yellow police tape that cordoned of Bill's flat, he ripped it in two, ignoring a tut from a young SOC person and strode through the green door. Bill's cosy flat was now strone with people in white boiler suits holding cameras and dusting various objects for prints. Stepping over someone flashing an ultra violet light, Tom approached head of Forensics Bifur and his assistant Bofur, as they directed more boiler suits around Bill's flat.

Thorin had known Bifur for as long as he had been working at Scotland Yard, he was an odd man who, after a motorcycle accident, preferred the company of corpses to people. For the most part he was perfectly silent and seemed to enjoy the annoyance it caused people, that's why Thorin liked him. He'd dealt with Bofur a couple of times in the past, more recently being the Burglar murders a few months back. You could always recognise him by the variety of different coloured bobble hats he wore to keep his unruly hair in check while at a SOC.

"Afternoon Inspectors, good to see you again," Bofur said in a thick Irish accent and grinned broadly at Thorin and Dwalin, as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. Dwalin nodded politely while Thorin tried to sound patient.

"What have you got for me?" Thorin asked keenly, looking at Bifur, who cocked his head and began scribbling down on his clip board.

"That's the thing Gov', there's nothing here , the scene has already been processed," Bofur said gleefully, barely containing his excitement.

"Fuck!" Dwalin cursed loudly making some of the forensics' team jump. Thorin pinched the bridge off his nose trying to stave off a headache.

"Exactly what I said, every bit of furniture has been bleached down with industrial strength cleaner, we found traces of Iodine spray and copper sulphate in hall and the bathroom. There is not a drop of blood or a hair follicle in this place, not even on his sheets or his razor. This has never happened, ever I think, can I put it on my forensics blog?" Bofur chirped excitedly, glancing at Bifur's clip board.

That would explain the smell of bleach and disinfectant that had hung in the air when Thorin had first visited Bill's flat, which meant that it must have been wiped clean sometime after Sunday evening when Bill was last seen. The Detective was still deep in thought when he heard Dwalin's voice close to his ear.

"What now Sarg'?" Dwalin leaned close to Thorin and asked quietly, keeping his voice low. Thorin moved away and leaned against the wood panelled wall.

_1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 breathe out, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 breathe in. _A calming technique he'd picked up in the army hospital, he used it to centre himself and clear his mind. Jackniffing his head up, he turned back to Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur.

"I want this entire house swabbed from top to bottom, work your way down. There's something here that we're not seeing," Thorin growled stubbornly, tapping his temple with his index finger as it if would help release whatever he wasn't seeing.

"But we don't have a search warrant?" Dwalin began but Thorin silenced him with a rueful look.

"I'm sure while you're getting Balin to rush one through for us, Forensics will have made a good start," Thorin said matter-of-factly as he grinned at Dwalin like the cat that'd got the cream. Understanding dawned over Dwalin's face and he too grinned at Thorin before marching to the stairs and calling at the top of his lungs.

"Gloin, get my brother on the phone!"

At Bifur's stiff nod the SOC was called together, Bofur delegated their marching orders, splitting them into teams A,B and C for each floor, within five minutes their equipment had been packed up and they'd stomped out of Bill's flat and descended to the lower floors. As the sound of crinkling boiler suits drifted away, Thorin stuffed his hands in the pockets of his woollen coat and paced around the flat.

Sure he'd studied Bill's paper work and his tax returns, but what did that really say of the man? William Bilbo Baggins wasn't just an accountant, was he?

Stepping into the living room and really studied the man for the first time.

Firstly he was small, Thorin summarised quickly as he dumped his head on a low wooden beam, but not only in size but in taste. Maps of Africa and New Zealand were framed and hung on the walls, but no pictures of him actually ever visiting these place. Bill's green leather armchair was over stuffed but had visible wear marks on the seat and on the right arm, indicated that he preferred homely comforts, likes to look outside his comfort zone but never venture out of it. Right handed Thorin noted. The books piled on his side table were mainly fantasy, J.R. Tolkien and David Gemmell obliviously among his favourites, they indicated he liked adventure but adventure within the safety of his own home.

_The safety of his own home..._Thorin thought regretfully. Where was it the accountant had been killed? In here or on the street? Was he dead? Probably not, whoever had him wanted the USB, they would want to know where it was and who with. Bill was the key to finding it and the USB was the key to finding Bill.

With nervous glance over his shoulder, Thorin took the opportunity to perch on the arm of Bill's chair and check his phone in case Kili had called.

_30 missed calls-15 messages. _

Fuck. Skipping out on the medical and yet another interview with Scale had been a bad idea. At least he'd had the patience to give the bomb squad a heads up, even if he hadn't let Fili and Kili know he was alive.

Maybe it was best if he didn't call them or Dis. Someone wanted him dead, that was obvious, the bomb squad had told him they'd found traces of an IED though the public line was that it had been an electrical fault in his transmission. The blast hadn't been big but it would have been enough to severely injure him if he hadn't had run. He couldn't risk their safety, he wouldn't, not after losing his father and grandfather: he wouldn't lose his only family.

Making a mental note to contact Nori in surveillance, Thorin scanned the flat on more time before flicking down the light switch and closing the green door behind him.

"Tell me you've got some good news?" He said tiredly as he met with Dwalin on the stairs outside the second floor flat.

"Wouldn't you be so lucky. Second floors just floor boards and a whole lot of dust. Landlords flat is seems normal, no blood traces, nothing but a whole load of plant books and Gardeners World DVDs," Dwalin said rubbing his shaved head and running his hand over his stubble, before turning his golden eyes to Thorin. "Look Sarg' its none of my business but don't you think your taking this a bit serious..." He lowered his voice so that the SOC team couldn't hear him and put his gnarled hand on Thorin's shoulder.

"All crimes are serious to Scotland Yard..." Thorin retorted dryly.

"Don't give me that shit Thorin, you know what I mean. This Baggins chap doesn't seem the type to get himself involved in trouble, so why now? And apart from Gandalf's death, we don't know there is a connection. Are you just seeing crimes because you think..."

"Think what? That will help prove my Grandfather innocent, find his murderer and bring him to justice," Thorin snapped savagely, the dull pain in the back of his head and spine making his temper shorter than it usually was. Dwalin swallowed and faced him levelly, making his voice calm.

"That's all well and good but all you've got is two words on a bit of paper," Dwalin's voice was heavy with finality and Thorin reeled slightly at his words, having to hold onto the nearby handrail to keep himself up.

_ Red Dragon. _Thorin had trailed his fingers over the words in his grandfather's diary leaving a thin trial of blood._ March 2__nd__ 1994- Erebor Hotel, Red Dragon. _

The two words that would haunt him for years to come, two words that had brought him to this moment, the two words that had been branded in fire and connected his fate to one Mr B Baggins.

"No, not all..." Thorin's voice died in his throat and he suddenly leaped down the narrow stairs with Dwalin's stomping following close behind.

Thorin could almost hear Dwalin rolling his eyes.

* * *

**Please review and tell me what you think. This is the first fict I have written of this type so it's a steep learning curve to say the least.**

**Should also probably apologise for some of the errors . When I first started writing this I renamed the characters, so if you see a random "Tom" or "david," just let me know. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday 22****nd**** November- 3:23pm**

Dwalin had to hide a sheepish grin as Lobelia Sackville gave Thorin a coy wave as he and Dwalin had descended down the stone steps to the basement flat.

"Detective Chief Inspector, how nice to see you again and ..." Her welcoming smile and open arms faltered as Dwalin had approached the door behind Thorin. Standing at nearly 6 foot 6 with a shaved head and an almost permanent five O'clock shadow, Dwalin was an imposing figure, good for intimidating hardcore criminals into confession but not for questioning old ladies.

"Mrs Sackville it is nice to see you again, this is my right hand man Detective Inspector Fundinson. I know you're a busy women but I was wondering if we could come in and ask you a few more questions about Mr Baggins," Thorin flashed his PR smile as he flashed his badge and indicated to Dwalin, who also had a PR smile plastered on his face.

Over the next fifteen minutes, after being served tea in dinky cup and saucers and pressured into trying some of Lobelia's rock hard scones, Dwalin flipped out his note pad and got down to the nitty-gritty; doing what he did best: questioning. Thorin took the opportunity to pace the small garish living room, dotty with pink roses and kittens, it was nauseating but he noted the dozens of family photos on mantel piece and welsh dresser.

Mrs Sackville's open dislike for Bill Baggins had taken an immediate U turn once she'd found out he was missing.

"He was always a good man, brought my milk down for me when I broke my hip last Christmas and drove me over to the Tooks' get together-"

"Tooks?" Dwalin interrupted, his pen hovered in the air over his notepad. Mrs Sackville sucked her cheeks in and bristled at being interrupted.

"The Tooks Ballroom "The Party Tree," just down the road, they put on swinging sixties dances." She said matter-of-factly giving Dwalin a disapproving look before carrying on. "Though I do remember one time, years ago now, he was bringing a lady friend over for afternoon tea and borrowed my finest silver teaspoons. I suppose now e's dead I won't be seeing those again."

"Nobody said anything about death Mrs Sackville, we're just looking into his disappearance," Thorin said polity, turning away from a rather ugly portrait of a family that looked distantly related to Mrs Sackville. Lobelia blushed at Thorin's words and gazed down into her teacup before returning her baleful eyes back to Dwalin.

"You said Sunday was the last time you saw Mr Baggins, since then have you seen any strange people hanging around the street?" Dwalin's words faded into the background as Thorin edged round the back of Mrs Sackville's sofa and picked up a small portrait in a silver frame.

"Oh that's my nieces little boy, Fro..Fro, Oh I don't know, something terribly modern that sounds like a Japanese car. He's just been accepted into boarding school, you can see his smart new uniform, look I'll show you," Mrs. Sackville completely disregarded Dwalin's question and she leant across the sofa to pull the cord of the lamp so that Thorin might see better.

But in a split second flash of movement Thorin caught her wrist and stared long and emptily at the lamp and its frosted lamp shade

"The lamp, the fucking lamp..." The words crept out of his mouth as a question formed in his mind. It didn't make sense, why? He'd been looking for something he hadn't seen but that was entirely the point, he hadn't been able to see it when he should have, and yet Bill hadn't.

"Detective?" Mrs Sackville asked uncertainly, looking from Thorin to Dwalin. Releasing her wrist, Thorin wriggled from the back of the sofa and strode to the door.

"The sodding lamp!"He laughed manically as he dashed out the flat. He heard Dwalin making excuses to Mrs Sackville and then following closely at his heels . Thorin nearly knocked over Bofur on the stairs and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I need of your UV lights." He demanded before sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

Thorin dragged the door open and skidded to a halt in the hallway, pausing just to catch his breath, he advanced slowly into the living room.

"Thorin, what the hell are you doing?" Dwalin asked in hushed tone as Thorin paced around the room frantically, looking wildly from the lamp to the bookshelves and then back to the lamp.

"The lamp, what do you notice?" Thorin said absently as he bent down and examined the skirting board. Thorin heard Dwalin's heavy footsteps stomp towards the lamp ad he tried in vain to turned it on.

"The bulbs gone," Dwalin said arching his eyebrow. Thorin straightened at Bofur and Bifur arrived with a large set of lights and set them down on the living room floor.

"Yes but Bilbo reads a lot, all the time by the looks at that chair. No, if the bulb had blown he would have replaced it straight away because one he's a bit OCD and that is his reading chair. Dwalin, check the plug," Thorin order stiffly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as cold adrenaline ran through his veins. It was the hunt and the chase that he loved, these seconds of epiphany where all the tiniest details fell into place.

Silently Dwalin pulled his Swiss Army knife from his coat pocket, a habit that he had picked up into the army which completely contracted their recent health and safety briefing, and retracted the screw driving. Working with well practiced hands Dwalin took little time taking the plug apart.

"The fuse is missing," he said told Thorin proving his theory correct.

"Or was taken out. Someone does not want us seeing something and we need to find out what it is," Thorin said to himself, dragging his hand over his tired eyes and nodded at Bofur who turned on the lamps.

The team recoiled as blinding light filled the dim room, sting Thorin's eyes and making colours dance inside his lids.

"Could have warned us Bif'," Dwalin grumbled rubbing his eyes. The SOC expert shrugged and adjusted the lamps, one UV light cast a sickening green haze which reminded Thorin of his days in uniform trudging through Hampstead Heath toilets at 3 am and the other was a 200 watt bulb that could burn your skin like a sun bed. But Thorin wasn't thinking of health and safety at that moment in time, his eyes were fixed on the blatant rectangle that had been cut into the wood.

"What the fuck..." Bofur breathed adjusting the lamp slightly. Thorin crouched on his haunches next to Dwalin and ran his fingers over the faint line.

"My guess would be that this is what Bill's kidnapper didn't want us to see," Thorin stood, his knees clicking loudly before nodding at Dwalin. "Let's get it open."

The rectangle had been cut so fine that not even one of Bifur's surgical scalpels could slide into the gap. With a snarl of frustration Thorin sent Bofur running out to his van and returned a few sort minutes later with a heavy mallet and a chisel.

"What about the flooring, its mahogany?" Bofur protested weakly as Dwalin lined the edge of the mallet up with the chisel. All three stared at him for a minute in disbelief until Bofur shook himself and nodded. "Yeah sorry, priorities."

Haphazardly chiselling away the fine wooden flooring around the seam until, with much fumbling, Bifur was able to get one of his scalpels deep enough to lever the rectangle of wood. Impatiently pushing the slab aside, Thorin sat back on his heels and pinched the top of his nose in annoyance.

"Well fuck me..." Bofur gasped in awe. The wooden panel had come away with relative ease compared with the bank style vault door that lay camouflaged under the fake floor boards. Made out of steel and titanium alloy, the door couldn't have been more than a metre in diameter but Thorin knew from his days in the army that it would take hours and a whole lot of explosives to get it open.

"Why would an accountant have a vault in his living room?" the SOC team had heard the noises and were now filling in through the hallway, staring open mouthed and bemused at the group of detectives on their hands and knees staring down into the hole.

Why indeed? Thorin stood, his knees clicking and started pacing the room, his eyes closed with his index finger resting against his temple as he analysed the perplexing turn of events.

" Do any of you guys happen to have a blow torch in your van?" Thorin heard Dwalin ask the SOC team behind him. A young forensic boiler suit came forward and let out a long whistle sound, before clucking and making notes of his clipboard. Thorin looked at him pointedly and arched his eyebrow.

"Well, that's a Dol Guldur vault. Hasn't been made since the sixties..." the forensics officer said shyly, shuffling his feet making his boiler suit crackle.

"A vintage safe makes it more traceable," Dwalin commented, at Thorin's side in a second. Thorin shook his head and tapped his pen against the door frame: he could kill for a cigarette.

"But why? Whoever put this in had an awful lot of time and money on their hands, so why get the retro addition?" Thorin asked quietly, talking to himself as much to the team. The Forensics officer cleared his throat and Thorin's head snapped in his direction.

"Well, there was a fault with them. All the strength went in the doors and everyone forgot about the sides..." The man's voice drifted off as Thorin marched out of the flat, calling at the top of his lungs for Dwalin to follow.

_It all made sense. _

Leaping down the narrow stairs two at a time, Thorin skidded on the landing and grabbed the doorframe of the second floor flat. The room was empty save a couple of bags the SOC team had left in there and a few wooden boards propped up against the wall. It was slightly smaller than Bilbo's flat and was whitewashed as if being prepared for redecoration. By the time Dwalin and the team arrived panting, Thorin had his head pressed to the floor and was knocking on each board gently with his knuckle.

"What the hell are you..." Dwalin began but Thorin cut his off.

"What do you notice about that wall?" Thorin said stiffly, head still pressed to the floor, recoiling a little as Dwalin stomped forward and scrutinised it. Getting his touch off his key ring, he flashed it at the far wall and then at the others.

"It's a different colour...FUCK!" Dwalin exclaimed, leaping backwards as Thorin attacked the wall with the mallet. The mallet sank into to the plaster like a hot knife through butter, Thorin smiled in satisfaction as he wrenched it out, sending thick clouds of dust billowing into the air.

"Think about it, you said it yourself no one lives here so why was there brick dust on the floor. And more importantly, why does the vault door stand directly above the other side of that wall?" Thorin said darkly letting his eyes rest on the deep black hole he had made in the wall. Bofur came forward and pulled at the edge of the crack.

"It's just plaster board. It's a bloody fake wall," he exclaimed in excited mirth and nodded at his team to come forward. Thorin stood by Dwalin's side as four of the SOC team came forward and started ripping at the wall. A great fog of dust rose and partially clouded them as Dwalin leaned towards Thorin's ear.

"Do you have your gun on you?" Dwalin asked in a low rasping voice. Thorin turned his cool gaze to Dwalin and opened his coat just enough to show off the gun hidden in his holster. Years working together had given them almost a telepathic communication, they both knew that if Thorin's hunch was right as it usually was, whatever was behind that wall wouldn't be pleasant.

"Alright guys that's enough!" Thorin called out to the SOC team, who backed away with their arms waving in front of their eyes so they could see through the dust cloud. They waited a heartbeat, then a minute for the dust to settle, eventually Bifur ordered fans to be hauled up but it was too late.

Suddenly out of nowhere something collided with Thorin and he went down hard, hitting the wall and slumping to the floor hard. Instinct told him to shield his face and lash out at the figure on top of him, as fists and punches rained down on his face. Grabbing a pair of thin wrists, Thorin pushed away and stared up at the ...thing on top of him. Ghostly white and emaciated, the man squirmed and snarled at Thorin, showing off his gold capped teeth while his thin and incredibly long fingers reached for Thorin's eyes, his chest, his throat. The man's eyes were wild and his voice hoarse swore and cursed.

"You've ruined it! You've ruined all my worksss!" the man screamed, insanity gleaming in his dilated eyes as Dwalin's arms wrapped around his chest and slammed him to the floor, twisting his clawing hands behind his back and lashing cuffs tight round his thin wrists.

Thorin shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears as his pulled himself to his feet.

"Someone call an ambulance," he heard himself mumble as his feet carried him forward through the whole in the wall. A lantern was pushed into the corner of the tiny room next to a bucket and box of tools. But Thorin wasn't really looking at that.

Standing in the center of the room was a lone figure. Strung up with wire and hanging limply, blood ran down his arms and lean naked chest was William Bilbo Baggins. Under his wilted mucky curls Thorin could see a face that was battered and broken, tears leaving long tracks down his cheeks.

Thorin breathed through his mouth to stop from catching the terrible smell of blood and sweat, and as if on auto pilot pressed his fingers against the Bilbo's neck, seeking for a pulse.

_There! _Light and fluttering but there.

But he knew time was against him, leaping to the tool box, Thorin spilled out it's contents looking for something with a shape edge. Hacksaw, clenched in his fist, Thorin dragged the serrated edge over the wire. A moan whispered through Bilbo's lips as the wire shuddered and snapped. Knees buckling, Thorin caught him just before he hit the floor and cradled him in his arms.

His body was ruined and bloody, not an inch of his skin wasn't bruised, a wave of nausea rolled over Thorin's stomach as Bilbo murmured in fear and tried to pull away from Thorin's hands.

"It's alright, everything is going to be fine," Thorin reassured him, gently brushing his damp curls out of his eyes. "My name is DCI Thorin Oak and I am a friend of Gandalf."

Gold hazel eyes stared up at him for a heartbeat, the noises of the outer room seemed to fade away, though in the distance Thorin could hear the manic screams of Bilbo's jailer -"No you've ruined it. He is mine! My precious!"

But Thorin's attention didn't move from Bilbo. The accountant's cracked lips parted and his mouth formed one word before his golden eyelashes fluttered and he fell into unconsciousness, cradled close to Thorin's chest.

"Thorin..."


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday 22nd November 8:47 pm

Thorin's Saturday night was spent on a hard plastic chair sat next to Bilbo's bed in St. Bees General Hospital, _M. Mountain wing /Ward 5_ . He'd been in a pitiful state when Thorin had found him, the image of his pleading eyes and bloody curls was branded Thorin's eyelids but it was his voice that unsettled him the most. So gentle, so calm, he'd whispered Thorin's name like a lover returning with morning coffee: Thorin found it unsettling how often Bilbo's voice swam around his head, rearing up when he least expected it.

But apart from all that, apart from his ordeal and the horrors he must have experienced, William Bilbo Baggins was a fighter apparently and would make a full recovery. He hadn't woken up yet or spoken since Thorin had rescued him, but Doctor Beorn had argued that sleep was always the best cure for the mind and the emotional exhaustion that Bilbo had been under.

After an extensive examination, Doctor Beorn had found no lasting damage like internal bleeding on Bilbo's body apart from several "interesting" wounds to his back and chest.

"Interesting?" Thorin asked sceptically, arching his eyebrow at the tall doctor before him. Beorn pushed the glasses up his nose and glanced down at his notes, letting his long frizzy black hair fall out of the ponytail at the back of his head.

"I noted an odd pattern of incision marks and grazing of the skin. I have sent pictures to your lad for analysis but I suspect some kind of blade with a serrated edge, maybe heated judging by the cauterised flesh," Beorn said mildly before hooking the clipboard on the back of the bed and digging his hands in his lad coat. "But he will heal. A few stitches and a couple of weeks waiting for the bruising to go down and he should be fine, you might have to feed him up a bit though," Beorn winked at Thorin as he was leaving the room and then paused at the doorway, looking back at the small figure tucked in the bed.

"So he will pull through?" Thorin heard himself say.

"I wouldn't underestimate him, from the state of his defensive wounds I'd say he put up a hell of a fight. Aye' the little Rabbit has got spirit I'll give em' that," Beorn smiled as he eyes watched the moving numbers of the heat monitor which was placed next to Bilbo's bed.

"Little Rabbit?" Thorin asked lightly, pouring water from the plastic jug into an empty coffee cup and sitting in the visitor's chair.

Beorn shrugged and smiled shyly, "Some of the night nurses think he's cute with his girlish curls and what not. I might if I was twenty years younger but..." Beorn shuffled his feet and studied his shoes before nodding curtly to Thorin as he left. "I doubt he will wake this evening , I suggest you go and get some rest or better yet go and get some honey cake in the canteen. Security has been posted at the nurses' station."

"Hmmm," Thorin didn't answer properly, the sickening green lights from the machines, the smell of disinfectant and the constant bleeping made him feel slightly ill. It reminded him of his time in the army hospital and all the machines in rehab, the steady bleeping, the eternal listening to your own heart and wondering if this breath was your last...

Thorin shook himself a little and gulped the stale water from his plastic cup. He counted to ten in his head and calmed himself, deep breathes that was the key, just keep breathing.

He leaned elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands for a moment, dragging his fingers through his coarse black hair. His hands searched for the long waves of black curls at the nape of his neck only to remember Scale had ordered a maximum hair length for Health and Safety reasons- _The bureaucratic Bastard!- _ Instead he tucked the jaw length hair behind his ears and fixed his stare on Bilbo.

His face was...nice. It was the only way Thorin would be able to describe it, Bilbo had a nice face. He wasn't handsome by any means but he certainly wasn't ugly. There were wrinkles in the corners of his mouth and little crow's feet just hidden under his thick chestnut eyelashes that showed he smiled often, with full lips of earthy pink that would let out a light warm chuckle. Nice and warm, that is how...

Thorin actually shook his head to get the befuddled thoughts out of his head. Fuck he needed a coffee; Fuck he needed a cig; Fuck he needed a ... he needed a fuck.

Nice and warm: HAH! Nice people do not get themselves caught up in grizzly murders, even if Bilbo had been a friend of Gandalf's and even if he'd got himself kidnapped he was still a primary lead. _Thorin, you exhausted fool, do not make assumptions about people, it clouds your judgement, _Thorin said to himself dryly as he whipped his phone out, only to stare aghast at the screen.

_12 missed calls- 3 messages. _

Thorin quickly scrolled through the messages, not bothering to open them.

_Dwalin- Scale is chewing my ass. _

_Dwalin – Suits want to take the kidnapper. _

_Dwalin- this shit just got real! We're talking INTERPOL big!_

Locating Dwalin's number, Thorin gave Bilbo's monitor another quick glance as he closed the door behind him and stepped into the corridor. He faced a poster for an anti smoking campaign and reminded himself to buy another couple of packs on the way home, as the phone rang.

**_"_**Where the hell have you been?!" Dwalin bellowed down the phone so loud that the speaker crackled and Thorin had to hold it away from his ear.

"I'm still at St. Bees, what's happening?" Thorin asked quietly, smiling back at a nurse who passed by with a body bag on a trolley.

"What's happening, I'll tell you what's happening. We've only gone a found Go Lem, INTERPOL's most wanted, serial kidnapper and wanted in sixteen different countries for torture and homicide and... well, let's just say it's a list as long as my arm," Thorin could hear Dwalin's stubble scratch the receiver of his phone as rested the phone on his shoulder and probably poured a whiskey.

"Gollum? Never heard of him,"

"No, Go Lem. Nobodies heard of him, INTERPOL was in the middle of a massive operation hunting this guy down after he kidnapped a load of European royalty or something, so they put a media blackout; not a peep to be said about him to encourage him come out into the open." Dwalin's voice was thick with frustration. "And guess what, we pull him in for bloody questioning as our key suspect. Fuck what a mess! But before I had even five minutes with him, I've got Psychologists, special agents... basically all the cast of James Bond chewing me out."

"They gonna' take him?" Thorin asked, already knowing the answer.

"AHA! Who is the best partner in the whole damn world!?" Dwalin almost cackled down the phone with mirth.

After the Academy and nearly ten years of working with Dwalin, Thorin was well practiced at this. "You are."

"Yes I am. As the pompous git that he always is, I said to Scale that it was only fair due to your agreement that we should keep him for the rest of the week. He wasn't pleased but not bad for a day's work." Thorin knew that by Dwalin's voice he was grinning.

"Right then, are you questioning him tomorrow?"

"Was gonna' but Go Lems deffo' got a couple of screws lose if you ask me, I'm havin' him checked out with the men in white coats and _hopefully_ when we get the all clear I'll lean into him a bit but that won't be till Monday at the earliest."

"I can still come in tomorrow, if you want?" Thorin asked hopefully.

"Nah, not much point really. Bifur's crew is still working over the secret room at Bilbo's and I've got McLif leading a team of Community Support Officers going door to door but so far no luck. Gloin is making a few calls and asking for recently sales of DolGuldar vaults. We're doing a sweep of friends and colleges, but it appears Bilbo was known as a bit of a loner,"

"Hmmm, suppose that's it for now, see you...Hold up, can you get some bodies on the ground up her, Dain's squad preferably? When Bilbo wakes up, if he ever does, I want him to know we're watching him. Also get a couple more cars in the area, if you can," Thorin ordered authoritively

"You think he killed Gandalf?" Dwalin asked in surprise.

"I..." _I am being an idiot and I need a cig,_ "he is to be treated like any other suspect for now, until we know what he and we are dealing with," Thorin said coldly, glaring at the anti smoking poster again.

Dwalin paused for a moment then said haltingly, "Right Sarg', you're the boss. See you Monday,"

Saturday 22nd November- 9:37pm

An hour or so later, Thorin was kicking the coffee machine that had given him a cold espresso and kept his change, when he came face to face with two young officers who made him see red.

A pair of Mirkwood's suited pencil pushers.

"I asked for Dain's squad," Thorin snapped harshly, kicking the machine again. The pair exchanged a look of an exasperation that said they would rather be photocopying then be in the field and adjusted the pens in their top pockets.

One male, one female: perfectly PC. The woman was attractive in a sterile kind of way, like a dentist's office tries to be welcoming, her red hair was tied and pinned into a tight pony tail; her eyes were stingingly severe and although slim, Thorin knew under her tailored black suit her body was hard and muscled. The man was almost the same, electric blonde hair greased back from the temples, his frozen eyes moved over Thorin: judging him with every passing second.

_ "_Don't shoot the messenger sir but Scale said he didn't think guns in a hospital was the best idea, you know, for the public image," DC Turiel said in a bored tone, after they had flashed their badges.

"Public image, really?! Bloody fantastic, I've got a key witness in there who was targeted by a globally famous assassin, someone blew up my car and you're worried about public image. Genius! Tell me, did Thrandruil put you up to this?" Thorin snapped viciously but neither officers seemed intimidated.

"DCI Mirkwood understands..." DC Legolas began but Thorin silenced him with a look.

"If anything at all happens because of your incompetence, I will have you're asses stripped of badges and kicked off the force faster than you can say supermarket copper. Are we clear?" Not waiting for an answer, Thorin left and punched the button for the lift with unecciasry force.

_ This was not his problem. It would all be fine. After what seemed like the longest day ever, everything would be fine in the morning. If Scale wouldn't send the force he thought was needed, then why worry? It would all be fi... Fuck, he needed a cig. _

Sunday 23rd November – 5:49pm

It was truly ridiculous. He was in the middle of the case of the century, of his career even, gang land style murder, psycho kidnapping and bombings; quite frankly it was fucking Christmas. Thorin _should_ have been pouring over SOC photos and talking with friends and family, maybe doing a door to door search for information, even talking to Mrs Sackville again. But no, he was here eating dry chicken and soggy vegetables, watching the clock as his sister chatted about her work in the Home Office.

The family Sunday lunch, is and always will be a staple to the English way of life. No matter how fucked up the family is, if you are sitting down to dinner on a Sunday afternoon, all the crap you've been going through gets shoved under the gravy boat and you sit in an uncomfortable silence whilst the people around you make poor attempts to make small talk.

After Thorin had moved out of the family home and bought his own place in Hammersmith, he'd been able to forgo the tedious Sunday roast but today was the exception and he was really starting to regret asking Fili for that favour.

"Did you see Fili on Crime Watch, didn't he look the professional?" Dis asked excitably as soon as he'd stepped through the door. His sister Dis, was six years younger than him, yet whenever the Crime Watch episode with Fili in repeat on TV she turned into a twelve year old girl mooning over Jason Donovan.

Thorin hung his coat up on the hooks of the kitchen door and noticed Fili and Kili trying to snatch bits of roast chicken skin while Dis pottered about getting plates together.

"No, I've been kind of busy to be honest but I see his ugly mug at work anyway," Thorin grinned at his nephews as Dis made a noise of indignation, and Fili smirked at his brother. Fili rented his own flat in Fulham, quite near Thorin, but it was an unwritten rule between the two brothers that he should always stay at the weekend. Whilst Kili was working at Scotland Yard, he was still paying off his student loans so couldn't afford to move out, which frustrated him no end: more nights than Thorin cared to think off, Kili turned up at his flat ranting and raving how Dis had discovered him in bed with a girl and ruined his chances of ever falling in love... YAD YADA YADA etc.

"I heard about Go Lem, nice catch by the way," Fili acknowledged .

"Yeah, it doesn't make any fucking sense,-"Thorin began.

"Language!" Dis warned from the far side to the kitchen.

"When we first collared him, he went psycho..." Dis tapped Thorin on the back of the head with a spoon.

"No shop talk, this is family time. It's bad enough you got my babies into the police force but don't bring it home," Dis said sharply as she carried the carved chicken to the table. Dis worked in the government, no precisely, the Home Office. The police force was under Dis, she thought herself and her boys better than that because her husband { God rest him} had been important; a real rising star in Westminster, an MP.

_Fucking politicians, _just because he was an MP didn't stop him getting mowed down in a hit and run; it didn't stop his wife and kids getting caught up in the scandal that followed and the years that they had to be financially reliant on Thorin while Dis struggled to earn a wage pushing paper.

They sat down at the table and Thorin helped serve, passing food and plates from the head of the table down to the boys. They all stated eating at 6:04pm, between then and 6:45pm when the apple pie and custard was being served, Thorin must have checked his phone twenty or more times for any news from the hospital.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridic...

"Thorin, have you met someone!? Please tell you've met a nice girl?" Dis squealed, twitching her dark eyebrows suggestively.

"No, why ...No , I haven't," Thorin snapped, while Kili and Fili grinned at him stupidly.

"You _are _checking you phone an awful lot," Kili pointed out helpfully, a smudge of custard down his favourite Iron Maiden tee shirt.

"It's for work," Thorin sighed with exasperation, as he got up and began to pile their empty plates.

"You know you should think about finding yourself someone..." Dis began her usual rant out his love life, his poor diet, his drinking...By now Thorin could almost quote it word for word and it always ended the same: " I just don't want you to end up like dad, that's all. I'm saying to because I care."

Fili and Kili had retreated into the front room, leaving Dis and Thorin alone to do the pots.

"Dissy, I am not dad. You know, I know my limits, I'm not going anywhere," Thorin smiled reassuringly as Dis passed him a wet plate to dry.

"No, I suppose not. For one, I can't actually remember Dad smiling...ever actually," Dis swallowed and glanced down at the bubbles in the sink. Her eyes were closed and her hands braced on the counter, but Thorin recognised the slight tremble of her curls that she was trying to keep from crying.

Putting the dish cloth on the counter, he turned Dis's shoulder and pulled her into a tight hug. At only 5.5, she fit perfectly into his arms, her head resting against his chest like it had when they were children.

"Dissy-"

"Don't call me that _Tor, _we're not children anymore," she muffled into chest, using Thorin's nickname. Smirking with laughter, Thorin patted her on the arm and started eating the remaining apple pie out the baking tin.

"Dis, I don't know what the boys have told you about my car but..." Thorin began tentatively, trying to find the right words to say.

"They haven't said anything, I heard from Mr Holmes at work. So, it was blown up. Do you know who by?"Dis commented stiffly, taking the pie tin out of his hands and popping it in the fridge.

_Oh yeah, Home Office. _

"At this moment, your guess is as good as mine but..."

"But you won't be here next weekend , I didn't think you would be," Dis said dryly, wiping her hand dry on a kitchen towel.

"Look Dis, that bomb was meant for me, you and the kids..." Thorin tried to explain but Dis held her hands up, silencing him.

"Don't worry I understand, I work in the Home Office for Christ sake! We are a weakness, it's the family that is targeted first, right. Fucking hell Thorin, I thought you were smart, as soon as I heard I took precautions," Dis snapped, slapping the cloth down on the side.

Thorin was taken aback, Dis hardly ever swore, it was shocking!

"What kind of precautions?" Thorin heard himself say.

"Well, I've been Mycroft's assistant for three years now, so he owes me plenty of favours. He does kind of run the government after all," Dis commented matter-of-factly.

Thorin snorted derisively. The allusive Mycroft Holmes and his brother were infamous for being brilliant and difficult, but Thorin didn't doubt that is anyone could keep Dis and the kids safe it was Mycroft.

"You better not be sleeping with him?" Thorin said shortly and making a quick escape as Dis slapped his arm.

* * *

Thorin paused outside Kili's door, it was still typical teenager even though he was in his mid twenties, plastered with band stickers and festival posters. Nudging the door open with his foot he found his nephews lounging on bean bags, playing tag team on Halo...whatever that was.

"No wonder Dis won't let you have girls round, it's a mess...What the hell is that smell?" Thorin asked in revulsion as the scent of warm male bodies and old trainers mixed with Fili's feet. Clothes covered the floor and the duvet was half off the bed, an empty pizza box was being used as a coaster for a beer can and along the window sill were six bottles of vodka filled with skittles, each at a different stage of colouration. The only thing that was clean was the desk that was covered with six computer screens, numbers whizzing up and down and long lines of encryptions jotted down on post it notes.

"You're only saying that because you aren't getting any," Fili smirked as he shot at a sniper on the television screen. Kili snorted, pausing his game and leapt across the room, swinging on his computer seat .

"_So, Mr. Bond we meet at last_," Kili said in a terrible mock accent as he pretended to stroke a cat on his lap.

"Don't be an arse and get on with it," Thorin said mildly. Kili snorted and span on his seat, digging about in a locked draw for a moment and then brandishing the USB triumphantly. "Please tell me you've got something?"

"_Please, _who do you think I am," Kili sneered plugging the pumpkin into the USB post in the front of the computer, before spinning back to Thorin and bracing his fingers under his chin. "Finding the password was the easy part, I used a basic algorithm..."

"Please, just... keep it simple," Thorin said tiredly, a headache already forming as the sound of all the computer mumbo jumbo.

"Right, I cracked the password, "Mad Baggins" being his ruby name in university, then I found he had a basic file set up. You know, holiday photos, downloaded music, **_diary_** but that can wait for later-" Kili paused as Thorin was about to speak, but whirled on his chair, his fingers dancing over the key board. Bilbo's data popped on screen and Thorin peered over Kili's shoulder. "Then I found this..."

"A locked file," Thorin finished for him.

"Precisely, locked and password encrypted. But of course, nothings safe from me, I got the bastard open and look what I found," Kili said proudly, pushing the computer screen toward Thorin with a flourish.

On a simple Notepad document was more than a hundred pages of numbers, just numbers, rows and rows of 1 to 3 digit numbers cascading down the page.

"What the fuck?" Thorin said under his breath as he scrolled down the endless pages of numbers.

"Yeah, that's what I said. It fits no pattern or sequence I can see, I applied the numbers to every alphabet, every code Scotland Yard has software for; and it doesn't match any," Kili said excitedly, adjusting his glasses on his nose and staring transfixed at the screen.

_What were you up to Bilbo, what were you up to?_

"That's the first bit that's interesting, now here's the second. He had his diary on the USB," Kili pointed at the document file with a drop down menu of Diary.

"Who the hell keeps their diary on a USB? Surely it's more likely to be seen," Fili called as he threw a grenade at another player.

"Exactly! Why indeed, but when you open it, its just blank," Kili said clicking on the Microsoft Word document.

It made Thorin's headache just thinking about it, Bilbo's diary consisted of hundreds of blank pages, occasionally split up by a bold title indicating the date.

"I can't figure it out, the USB breakdown is showing it's almost 250 KB but there's nothing written apart from a few dates. Is this guy a computer expert, software manipulation that kind of thing?" Kili asked hopefully, his dark hazel eyes searching Thorin's face.

Dragging his hand over his stubble, Thorin thought back to the little flat in Knightsbridge. Small, contained and comfortable; history books and maps; fantasy novels; alphabetised account files but nothing suggesting computer genius.

"I thought you _were _the computer expert?" Thorin asked Kili with a sinking feeling.

"He is but this, Bilbo guy, must be in a different league. Maybe he's only pretending to be an average guy?" Fili said thoughtfully, pausing his game and coming to join them, standing on his tip toes to look over their shoulders.

_Average guy...Average guy_... The words seemed to clang around Thorin's head.

"Move, _move!" _Thorin said urgently as he pushed Kili out of his seat.

"Be my guest, I've tried everything I know," Kili scoffed irately, crossing his arms over his chest like he did when he was a toddler.

"What do Bilbo and I have in common? We're both average, probably a bit below average in my case, but what do _all_ people know what to do?" He asked himself than more to the boys. "We know how to click and drag."

And with that Thorin tapped the mouse and dragged downwards, creating a light blue box on the screen. Kili roared in annoyance and frustration as understanding dawned. With a small triumphant smile, Thorin pulled the arrow up to the top of the page and changed the font colour from white to black.

It was so simple. So fucking simple, it was almost stupid.

"I am an idiot!" Kili said to himself as his body almost shook in frustration. But Thorin wasn't listen, he was already searching for Sunday the 15th of November, the day Bilbo was taken.

_"Sunday 16__th__ November- It's done. Gandalf will know what to do. "_

Was all it read, growling with frustration, Thorin went to Saturday's entry.

_"Saturday 15__th__ November- What have I got myself into? Hell, what would mum say! How did I get involved with these people, with Bert, with everything! I should have left it alone!_

_I AM OUT OF MY DEPTH. I NEED HELP. _

_Red Dragon will kill me if they get the chance,"-_Thorin's heart sized in his chest as he read the words again and again, just to make sure they were real.

_Red Dragon_

Suddenly Thorin jumped as "_Carry on my wayward son" _by Kansasstarted blaring out of his trouser pocket. Fumbling with fingers filled with adrenaline, he pulled out the phone and groaned when his saw the name.

_DCI Thrandruil Mirkwood is calling you. _

Thorin was half tempted to ignore it and listen to the brilliant guitar solo of Kansas but decided , as there was no love lost between him and Thrandruil, Mirkwood wouldn't ring without a reason.

"What?" Thorin asked sharply after pressing the green button.

"Look, don't give me that, DC Turiel has been shot after protecting your witness; I deserve more respect than that," Thrandruil said obviously seething with anger.

"What happened?" Thorin had gone perfectly still, Kili and Fili watched him with bated breath, ready to move any second.

"You better get your ass done here now, someone forced their way into Baggins' room brandishing some kind of weapon... Turiel engaged the aslant and Bilbo bolted," Thrandruil said stiffly.

Fili was already throwing on his coat and getting his car keys and before Thorin knew it he was running down the stairs.

"What do you mean he bolted?" Thorin heard himself say in disbelief.

"What do you mean "what do you mean" ? Bilbo's awake!"

* * *

**Anybody who saw the Sherlock reference have a cookie!**


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry this is so late. As some of you may know, I have recently just finished my other story lost destiny and Hidden pasts, so I'm kind of in mourning for that atm. Mourning a story- fuck I sound lame. Alright well, here is this.

** Sunday 23rd November 7:09 pm**

The wheels of Fili's Mazda screamed as they the skidded to a stop. Flashing lights mobbed the front entrance of the hospital and the whole area had to cordoned off from reporters and spectators.

"How the hell do these camera monkeys always know when shits going down?" Fili said peering over the steering wheel and out at the sea of flashing lights.

"Careful, one might one might actually have feelings," Thorin said unbuckling his seat belt and preparing to jump out of the car and push through the crowd when Fili's hand landed on his arm.

"You said you'd let me in on this," Fili said evenly with the barest hint of determination behind his tone.

Thorin sighed deeply, he knew he'd regret making that deal with Fili. Damn, Dis was going to kill him. "I know I did, park the car then come and meet me, I'll get the uniforms on the tape to wave you through."

As soon as Thorin approached the yellow police tape reporters assaulted his personal space with cameras and lights flashing so bright that it made spots appear in front of his eyes. Microphones and iPhones were shoved in his face from all angles, making his temper shorten dangerously.

"DCI Oak, what can you tell us out the disturbance tonight?"

"No comment," a kneejerk response that made all reporters squirm internally.

"Has it anything to do with terrorist activity!?"

"We are currently working under the suspicion that unprovoked attack and that it is not related to any terrorist groups but will still be treated with the highest importance," again a kneejerk response that didn't actually mean anything but seemed to give the public hope.

"What can you tell us about the victim!?"

"He's human and he's alive," Thorin said stiffly as he reached the yellow tape and a burly looking PC glanced at Thorin's badge before letting him through.

"Are the rest of the patience in the hospital safe after this attack!?"

"DCI Oak, is this another botch up like the Firework scandal last summer?!"

Thorin left the reporters behind the tape and marched into the main reception area. Waiting impatiently a few moments while the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and he stepped into the empty lift that smelled of vomit and antiseptic while hospital radio crackled through a speaker.

"Get the next one," he snapped coldly at a nurse who moved to join him in the lift. The doors shut and he was alone with the bad radio and his reflection.

_1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,breathe in. _Reporters knew nothing. Selling speculation to a frantic public, taking events on face value and ignoring the good intentions behind actions. Thorin was old school, out dated to many but followed his instincts. He may not have been perfect; Fuck no one was but at least he tried his best to get things done instead of being a desk jockey like Thrandruil! "Firework Scandal!" Christ one bust that happened to go bad and his name was tarnished forever.

_1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10, breathe out. _The elevator dinged and he stepped out on to Bilbo's ward.

Paramedics in fluorescent coats and fat security guards were giving statements to various PCs, a nurse was sat on the floor breathing into a paper bag while another was having stitches to her hand, Thorin made a mental note to speak to them. Thrandruil was stood waiting by the shattered glass of Bilbo's room, his electric blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail at the back of his head, while he tapped on a phone and chatting into a cordless eyepiece...thing.

The hairs on the back of Thorin's neck bristled and he actually felt his blood pressure go up, while a distinct flare of indigestion rose in his gut, bringing with it the distant memory of Dis' dry roast chicken.

Just as Thorin was about to step forward his phone buzzed at the very same moment Thrandruil turned and eyed Thorin coldly. With his shiny leather shoe hovering in the air, Thorin flipped out his phone and pointedly turned his back to Thrandruil.

_Dwalin Fundinson is calling you-_

"Dwalin, I was about to call you... No, the Orc and Eagle will have to wait for tonight. Yeah, all hells has just broken lose at St. Bees... Tell me about it, yeah Thrandruil of all people, I know he's a git but he's got Scale in his corner...My sentiments exactly, can you get me any more info on this Go Lem's techniques? What his methods are, what his ... any intel really, that would be great," Thorin paused as a group of nurses passed him by and eyed him nervously. "No, I don't think it would really do much good, besides Fili's got my back. Yeah, I know Dis's gonna kill me but the kids got to join the big boys sometime." Thorin pressed the red button and pushed his phone into the inside pocket of his coat.

Taking a very deep calming breath and once again counting in his head, Thorin strode towards Thrandruil.

"Tell me exactly what happened?" Thorin demanded stiffly, fighting to keep his lip from curling in distain for the man in front of him. Even Thrandruil's aftershave was overbearing and repulsive: Blue steel and Mirkwood by Gucci. Thrandruil tutted and mockingly cocked an eyebrow and took a moment to tug his shiny golden cufflinks.

"Well it's nice to see you to," Thrandruil said drolly, pushing open the door to Bilbo's room with the toe of his shiny over polished loafers, then glancing down to check the screen of his phone without bothering to meet Thorin's eyes. "Unknown assailant, presumably male, entered room at 18:13 and advanced on one Bilbo Baggins-"

Thorin stepped passed Thrandruil into the doorway of the room. The chair that he had sat on for hours the previous day had been unturned and thrown to the other side of the room. The mattress on Bilbo's bed was half hanging off, along with its blankets and linens. The life monitor had been pushed aside and the IV had been forcibly ripped out and was dripping over the floor. The fluorescent light bulb was shattered and flickering, glass covered the floor and the faint drops of blood.

Drops of blood. Bilbo's blood? Thorin didn't know but a uncomfortable tightness built in his chest that he couldn't name. Something squirmed in his belly anxiously and it defiantly was not Dis' chicken.

"I'll Bifur's crew and have things processed," Thorin said automatically, eyeing the blood splatter.

"No need, Lindir is on his way," Thrandruil said absently, tapping on his phone and Thorin had to swallow a growl of frustration. Lindir, close friend and fellow git of Thrandruil was a SOC expert like Bifur and Bofur. However unlike them, Lindir did the barest amount of work and coasted by.

"So he entered and Bilbo struggled?" Thorin prompted, leaning in and grabbing the doctor's charts from the end of the bed.

"The suspect cried out, Turiel came to investigate and was pinned to the outside wall," Thrandruil listed in a flat voice that was so bare of emotion Thorin almost found it chilling. Moving to the other side of the corridor, Thrandruil took out a small leather pack of instruments and retrieved forceps and preceded to point at the blood splatter on the wall. "The assailant stabbed DC Turiel twice, once in the arm and once in the lung. He then turned back to fire five bullets into the room, before being struck on the head with a blunt instrument and escaping."

"Have the bullets being identified yet?"

"Custom made nine mill imports, no reg numbers," Thrandruil shrugged blandly.

"Struck on the head?" Thorin asked with interest while examine the ruined remains of the anti- smoking poster and then turning his attention to the doctor's file in his hands. Thrandruil made a noise that was close to a snort of derision and pointed to the floor.

"Blood splatter that was found on the floor does not match the pattern on the wall," Thorin ignored the mocking exasperation in Thrandruil's voice and crouching on his haunches, took out a swab pack from his pocket and took his own sample.

"What does CCTV show?" He asked tightly, once again having to swallow anger as Thrandruil's loafer started to repeated tap with impatience.

"All electric monitoring systems on this floor went off line a couple of minutes before 18:10, which means no electronic trace was picked up."

Systems manipulation, access to mainframe, it meant more than no electronic trace: it meant they were dealing with a professional.

"You'd think a they'd let me park in the disabled just once. It's not like I'm the police or anything," Fili grumbled as he came to stand beside Thorin. Completely blanking Thrandruil, Thorin pushed Fili forward and recited the information he had just received.

"He fired into the room and then hit on the head?" Fili asked intently, his brow furrowing.

"According to reports and blood splatter," Thorin breathed as he knelt on the ground and stuck black tape around the dots of blood on the floor. Fili made a frustrated noise.

"But that doesn't make sense, you said this guy was trained but why did he miss with five shots and not manage to kill Bilbo in those minutes he was alone with him?" Fili pinched the bridge of his nose and pulled a pair of plastic gloves from his jean pocket.

"And that Fili, is the elephant in the room that Thrandruil has failed to see," Thorin smirked and shot his nephew an amused glance. Standing slowly, his knees popping a little, Thorin tucked his hair behind his ears and closed his eyes. He heard Fili take a tentative step back and wait silently. He knew Thorin's methods and also knew his results.

Thorin let the evidence flash and form in front of his eyes and he saw what happened or saw what should have happened.

"Well?" Fili asked expectantly as Thorin's eyes flashed open. Disregarding forensics and yellow tape, Thorin ducked into Bilbo's room and stared at the tattered bed sheets.

"Whoever we're dealing with enjoys his job, likes the pain and the slow process of killing. If he didn't he would have killed Bilbo the second he stepped into the room. But he waited. Waited and...I don't know savoured the seconds where Bilbo's life was in his hands. But Bilbo woke up, he woke and he struggled but more importantly he shouted," Thorin leaped to the door frame and pretended to be Turiel coming down the hall way while Fili watched him with a bemused smile.

"She heard the noise and came to check, but was caught off guard as the guy...Who ever charged and pinned her to the wall, " Thorin said briskly, grabbing Fili by the shoulders and pushing him into the opposite wall. Instinctively, he braced his hands against Thorin's chest and tried to push him away. Thorin began to nod slowly with understanding.

"He was armed with a knife and a gun, pinning her with his elbow," Thorin braced his left elbow against Fili's throat.

"Oi careful," Fili growled hoarse as Thorin pressed against his wind pipe.

"The gun was in the right, knife in the left but he got cocky. Thought he'd killed Bilbo and then wanted to enjoy the kill with Turiel but she struggled. He tried to reach her vital organs but had to keep her controlled," keeping his elbow tight to Fili's neck, Thorin jabbed his hand down and stabbed wildly at Fili's arm and then lung. Thorin stepped back and dropped the imaginary knife from his hand and ran a hand over his stubble.

"Then he heard a noise and shot wildly over his shoulder into the room hoping to catch Bilbo-" Kili nodded slowly as understanding dawned.

"Bilbo ducks away then cracks the guy over the head the chair," Thorin indicated back to the room. "There's blood on the legs," Thorin added quickly when Fili opened his mouth to question him.

"So, now what?" Fili shrugged, then jogging after Thorin as he took off down the hall to the nurses' station.

"Oi you!" Thorin called as the nurse who was still breathing into a paper bag was being ushered towards the lifts. The nurse faltered and turned towards Thorin as he jogged towards her. She was teary eyed and her face swollen with tears, her hands shook as she pressed the bag to her face again. "Am I correct in thinking that you found DC Turiel?" Thorin asked politely as Fili skidded to a stop behind him.

The nurse nodded shakily and looked at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"There's no need to be worried, Detective Durinson will make sure you get home safely. Now I was wondering if you could answer some of my questions?" Thorin gave her a warm reassuring smile and ignored the noises of protest that Fili made. "Did you see anybody leaving the scene when you found DC Turiel?"

The nurse shook her head and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue that Fili handed her, "All I saw was that poor girl sliding down the wall with blood gushing..." The nurse stopped to breathe into the bag again.

"I know it's hard but we must face the dangers to bring people to justice. Is there anything else you can tell me?" Thorin nodded understandingly, fixing her with a steady glare and watching for any signs of a lie.

The nurse sucked in a shaky breath, "I was holding her hand and waiting for the emergency team when she pulled me close and whispered in my ear-"

"What did she say?" Fili and Thorin asked at the same time.

"It was hard to hear but it sounded like "Ice male, red eye" and one more thing as she was being wheeled away to the operating theatre, "he escaped him." That's all I heard I swear!" the nurse started to become hysterical so Thorin nodded and gave her his best PR smile, then nodded at Fili to take her home.

Thorin watched Fili help the nurse on with her coat and make idle conversation as they waited for the doors to open. Fili shot him a deadly – _I'm going to get you for this look_- as the doors closed and descended to the ground floor.

After steadying himself for a moment and absently fingering the packet of cigarettes in him pocket, Thorin marched towards the nurses' station where uniformed police officers had congregated.

"Right listen up and listen good," Thorin demanded steely, his voice falling into its old army ways as he called everyone around him. "It is imperative we find Bilbo Baggins, he is the key witness in this murder investigation and as such his life is in danger, we find him, we protect him but ultimately we bring him back alive. He is likely confused and looking for something that reminds him of home. He'll miss his books and his armchair and garden or...whatever but running at him guns blazing is not the way to go." Thorin shot a dangerous look over his shoulder at Thrandruil who was leaning against the nurses' desk looking distinctly bored and tapping on his phone.

"Right, talkies on, fan out, I want every floor and exit covered. Let's see if we can't bring Mr. Baggins home," Thorin commanded his deep voice full of unquestioning authority and determination.

_Keep him safe and find him. _Something that Gandalf had bargained his life for and Thorin was doing a poor job of doing.

The team nodded and spilled out of the ward, making for the lifts and the staircase.

"And where will you be going?" Thrandruil said coldly, a smirk twisting his pale lips and making his chiselled face ugly and distorted. All the self control that Thorin had been burning, all the back handed jabs and all the sarcastic incompetence finally caught up to him, Thorin's anger snapped. Grabbing the white collar of Thrandruil's blue shirt, Thorin dragged him over the nurses' desk and pinned him down by his thin throat.

"I am following my instincts, instincts that told me that you and your tight arsed pen pushers are as dirty and as bent as the common criminals and one day soon I'm going to prove it," Thorin seethed down at Thrandruil, who kept his face empty and barren. "Once again your incompetence has injured an officer which could have been prevented-"

"I am not your enemy and you cannot blame me for your Father's death," Thrandruil snapped suddenly, his voice harsh and hoarse as Thorin pressed down on his windpipe a little.

If there was a time to bring up the past and the many bumps in the road, now was not it! Thrandruil's words made Thorin see red. The injustice, the raw pain, the seething agony and humiliation of having one closest to you called a traitor.

"The tipoff was sound! It was the back up that was lacking. Back up that you should have provided," for a dangerous second Thorin had thought about pressing the air out of Thrandruil's lungs.

Using what little self control Thorin had left, he somehow walked away. Down the hall and into the cold empty stairwell, bolting the door securely behind him.

Thorin's fingers itched for a cigarette and his fingers for a cigarette but he knew he would get none. Not now, not until this night was done and Bilbo was found...Bilbo was safe.

Resting on the cold metal banister Thorin leaned over and looked down into the blinking light towards the basement. It's cold aura and flickering darkness sent a chill through Thorin's spine. No, Bilbo had suffered in the darkness for too long at the hands of Go Lem.

Running his hands down the rough concrete wall, Thorin stared blankly at the sing that he had absently been staring at.

_Eyrie Rooftop Gardens and Smoking area. _

Without even a second thought, Thorin took off up the seemingly endless flight of stair, taking them two at a time. **

Sunday 23rd November- 7:56 pm

The wind whipped around the empty rooftop of dead plants and sent an icy chill through Thorin's bones. Any other time of year the garden would have been lovely but it wasn't any other time of year, it was winter and more precisely winter in London. All the plants except a few sparse bushes had withered and died, leaving it more like an selection of thin shrunken plants then a garden. But be that as it may, Thorin stepped into the cold howling wind and gently closed the heavily door behind him, noting a slight trace of blood on the handle.

Scanning the corners, his keen eyes caught a slight movement- THERE- behind a beech hedge was a small hunched figure, faintly shivering in the freezing night air.

Thorin felt the cold bite his skin as he unbuttoned his coat and draped it over his arm. Looking off into the London skyline, illuminated with dancing lights and smoke, he brushed frost off a wooden bench and sat down. Setting his coat down at the far end of the bench along with his badge and a half eaten packet of flying saucers, Thorin took out his lighter and cigs and began the long patient wait.

There was a faint rustle and scuff, chancing a glance down the bench, Thorin discovered that the coat, badge and sweets had miraculously disappeared.

"Thorin Oak?" A male cautious voice asked, faltering as their chattered.

"That would be me," Thorin answered lightly, resisting the urge to turn, not wanting to scare him away. He would be careful, scaring the poor man wasn't what was needed right now.

"I...I thought I dreamed you up," tentative and careful, as if Bilbo too was being careful how he proceeded.

"I am sorry to disappoint ," Thorin chuckled lightly. He reached over to the bin to his right and stubbed out his cigarette and added it to the small mountain of stubs that sat on top of the bin. When he returned eyes front he nearly jumped out of his skin, for standing in front of him was the shivering figure of Bilbo Baggins.

He was taller than Thorin had originally thought but still not tall in stature. His frame was slight was covered by a simple hospital gown, then completely engulfed by Thorin's woollen coat which touched the top of his feet and hung off his shoulders, but his face albeit it battered and bruised was nice. His full lips were tinted blue with cold and his dirty curls trembled as he shivered. His eyes were clever, sparkling spring green as he glared at Thorin suspiciously.

Bilbo shuffled his feet, which were turning grey with cold and grew uncomfortable under Thorin's intent stare. Swallowing, Thorin looked away quickly.

"I am DCI Thorin Oak, I was a friend of Gandalf-" Thorin began mechanically.

"Was!? Why...Why past tense? Why was!?" Bilbo asked shakily, panic and desperation growing as thick clouds of steam rose from his mouth.

_Fuck!_

"Bilbo-" Thorin said trying to take a step towards Bilbo, but the accountant flinched as if stung and retreated quickly to the other side of the garden.

And then Thorin saw it. Bilbo was terrified, terrified of him, of things that had been done to him, things he had suffered. Thorin saw is pain and understood.

"Tell me!" Bilbo demanded, hugging himself to keep warm as another biting gust of wind made Thorin's coat flap around Bilbo's body.

Thorin took a long deep breath and looked away from Bilbo's pleading eyes. "A short while after he contacted me about your disappearance, he was found shot and... You have to know Bilbo, that Gandalf was a friend to me. I wouldn't have said a good friend because he could be a bit of prat sometimes but I do truly regret his death."

Bilbo covered his eyes for a moment and sucked in some air, then his shoulders began to shake, wiping the corners of his bruised eyes, he nodded at Thorin. "You're right, he was a prat but a good kind of prat."

Despite the cold and the howling gale and the obvious pain that Bilbo was suffering, they both stood with reluctant smiles and chuckled at the fond memories they had of Gandalf. Thorin had to actually shake himself back into the moment.

Digging inside his shirt, Thorin pulled out the pumpkin USB that was tied in a shoelace around his neck and held it up for Bilbo to see.

"Would you like to explain to me what this is all about?" Thorin said sternly, fitting not to shiver with cold. Bilbo took a step forward and tried to snatch from Thorin but Thorin pulled it out of reach. "Tell me first?"

Suddenly anger flashed in Bilbo's eyes and he shoved Thorin with surprising strength. "People have died for that! That damn USB that I got from Secret Santa a year ago...Died for it and for what!" Bilbo cried, hot angry tears falling down his face while he began to pace up and down pulling his hair viciously.

"Bilbo, I need to know what's going on, that's the only way I can help you," Thorin said sternly but with a compassionate understanding in his undertone.

"I can't...Not here. No, I need..." Bilbo began in short gasps, wrapping his arms about himself and tugging Thorin's coat tighter.

"Fine, then, that's fine. Can you maybe tell me about what happened tonight down in the ward?" Thorin tried again tentatively but Bilbo covered his ears with his hands, showing off his wounded wrists. "I'll get you somewhere safe, Witness protection will-" Thorin said carefully, tucking his dark hair behind his ears as the wind blew it about his face.

"No!"Bilbo growled with surprising ferocity making Thorin jump.

"No?"

Bilbo stopped pacing suddenly and turned to face Thorin, his eyes burning green with almost feverish intensity. "No, Gandalf trusted only you therefore I only trust you and only you. No Witness protection or...Thorin, I'm out of my depth here and I need you to help me." Bilbo stared pleadingly, his bright eyes scouring Thorin's face, while his body tensed with a strength and anxiety that Thorin had never seen before. He was defiant and unyielding, with little or no thought to his own safety, only that of his purpose of which he kept hidden.

Thorin would look back on his life and see that in the seconds that they both stared at each other, royal blue fixed with spring green, his life would change forever.

One rash, unplanned out decision that would change the course of their lives forever.

"Here, put these on," Thorin said stiffly, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks, tossing them over to Bilbo. _Thank fuck they were clean on. _ Bilbo eyed the holes in the toes before sitting on the bench and pulling them on his frost bitten feet and then wrapped a scarf around his neck that Thorin tossed him.

Retrieving his walkie talkie from his pocket, Thorin pressed his thumb down over the receiver button and paused before speaking.

_I can't believe I am doing this. _He thought as he began to speak into the receiver.

"This is Gold leader DCI Thorin Oak, all receive. Suspect has been found. I repeat, suspect Bilbo Baggins has been found and being transported to secure safe house. Over,"

"Copy that, will give hospital security team all clear. Over." The words buzzed out the walkie talkie in a voice that Thorin didn't recognise.

Bilbo starred in dumbfounded disbelief and bewilderment as Thorin tucked the walkie talkie back into his pocket. He didn't actually think...Didn't believe that... Damn, he was too hungry to think clearly.

"Bilbo, if you come with me, we see this through to the bitter end whatever that may be. We get these bastards that hurt you and murdered Gandalf and we see them behind bars. If you're not up for that don't bother following," Thorin declared simply, not bothering to hide the rawness of his words anymore.

Bilbo starred at Thorin for a moment and looked out over the blacken skyline of London before his head snapped back to him. "No, I'm with you," his voice was hoarse but strong.

"Good, try and keep close, I don't what we may run into," Thorin nodded before making for the staircase.

With a backward glance to make sure that Bilbo was following, they made their way down the dozens of flights of stairs and down into the belly of the hospital. They paused at ground floor door and after checking the coast was clear and telling Bilbo to keep his head down, they kept to the shadows and darted through the Ambulance bay doors at the side of the Hospital. Instinctively, Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo's shoulders as he limped towards the main road. Bilbo tucked himself into the warmth of Thorin's side, comforted for the first time in days by someone's closeness.

London is always busy but the back road of the hospital was quite and almost empty. Sticking two fingers in his mouth, Thorin hailed a black cab with a deafening whistle that made Bilbo cringe and they bundled themselves into the backseat.

"13D Arkenstone place, Hammersmith, please," Thorin told the cab driver, who nodded and clicked the meter without batting an eyelid at them. Thorin sat back on the sticky leather seat and sighed with relief, exhaling the breath he didn't know he'd been holding since the rooftop.

"Where are we going?" Bilbo breathed, eyeing the back of the cab drivers head.

"You said you wouldn't trust anyone else, so where better to go than my flat."


	6. Chapter 6

This just flew off fingers today so there is probably loads of mistakes in it. Sunday 23rd November 8:30pm

He had been in the darkness for so long. So cold and dark and alone, all between him and the crushing oblivion was the thin clammy hands of his captor. His Jailer, his...

_"You are mine. Mine! I could not kill such a pretty thing, but..." _The high pitched whisper was replaced with cold menace as the heated blame would bite into Bilbo's flesh again and send searing agony over his body. "_But fight me and, my love- my precious; I shall peel the skin from your bones,"_

Bilbo had known nothing. One moment he had been pacing on his living room carpet, glancing nervously up at the clock over his mantelpiece and then the next- Nothing. Nothing except the hovering lantern shoved under his eyes and the skeletal hands pocking and prodding and caressing, every touched filled with the pretence of love.

Love.

"_My love..."_ The unknown jailer was so full of love for him. So full of admiration and pride- _His love, His precious- _

_His._ Ownerships. Slavery. Servitude.

Stockholm syndrome would have been preferable to what Bilbo was feeling during the seemingly endless hours of darkness and the touch of cold wet skin. It would have been so easy to fall in love with His Master, to feel something... with his jailer Even not to feel at all, to be an empty shell of a person who he once was. But no, whatever happy feeling that Bilbo had ever experience was replaced with poison. Bitterest gall had turned all thoughts to hate. Hate and anger is the barest purest forms.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Bilbo had suffered pain and humiliation, his sanity teetered on the edge and the more delirium set in, the more he thought about what a pleasure it would be to cause pain; to be the one wielding the knife or the wire or the terrible, terrible whispered words.

He wanted to cause pain and show his captor what he had been put through. For sickening unnumbered hours Bilbo's mind slowly twisted into something ugly, something that would have made his former self shudder under the cruelty of those thoughts.

But then there was light.

The hands on his body had seized their movements and cold caresses, a hushed growl had crept from the Things lips and he stilled, waiting with baited breath for a noise; any noise.

Dancing on the edge of consciences, he had been vaguely aware of finger nails biting into his arms and a dark promise whispered into his ear.

_"If you ever let anyone touch my Precious, I will skin you alive and eat your pretty little bonses'. Never think you are safe from me, I shall be with you always,"_

The darkness fell into chaos. A glorious shining chaos of dust and light; light, streaming sunlight that burned Bilbo's eyes but still his would have sold his soul to feel its heat. Sunlight, he had forgotten what it felt like to be warm.

Past Bilbo would have called the emotion that ran through his body now as joy, but that Bilbo was gone, long lost to pain and anger, Bilbo couldn't tell you how he felt inside. He knew that there was a growing wetness from his wrists and his head spun; the world tilted dangerously and the ground came to meet him as his bounds were cut and he fell, face first towards the ground.

But the pain never came. For the first time in such a long time it seemed, the pain never came; no expolision of blood or agony or humiliation. Bilbo was overcome with warmth.

Not sunshine warmth: no, it was rawer, simpler, unquestioning warmth and comfort. Yes, that was the word comfort that surrounded him and cradled him close.

During the days of pain, Bilbo had decided to close his eyes and tried to shut it all out but now, but feeling the strength encircle him and the odd spicy smell of gunpowder and flying saucers fill his nose, replacing the dust ridden dankness that had almost suffocated him at first; Bilbo opened his eyes.

Bilbo didn't believe, didn't trust what he was seeing.

Blue. But not just blue. Deep blue iris that frightened, frightened you into thinking that if you stared to long they would drowned you in their colour. Blue, dark but warm, like a wings of a bluebottle catching the sun through the leaves of a tree.

"It's alright, everything is going to be fine. My name is DCI Thorin Oak and I am a friend of Gandalf."

The words were strong, unquestioning and taking no prisoners, but somehow understanding. And with them came a touch, the barest brush of fingers on his brow and against his hair, there was nothing pleading in those fingers, nothing clammy or grabby or lustful.

Bilbo couldn't name it. Couldn't think, the numbers didn't seem to computer. Systems malfunction, start and reboot.

"Thorin..." he whispered the only word that seemed to make sense at the moment in time, he said those words and held them like a raft in a storm. Relief at last.

The cab was dark and the driver silent. London passed them by in a whirl and they didn't stop to look as the cab paused at traffic lights going into the burrow of Hammersmith.

All was silence apart from Bilbo's mind.

_Good. Good! Right... What was I thinking?! You are recovering from a major shock to your system, is running off with one of Scotland Yard's finest into probably immediate and imminent danger really the best thing for you right at this moment in time. _

_Gandalf trusted him. _

_You hated Gandalf, the only reason you became friends with his was because he happened to pass when you were hitchhiking to London. _

_Mum through me out! What was I supposed to do- Sorry Gandalf I don't want your help, you give me the willies. _

_Look! This is not the argument to have now. What we need to think about is Thorin and how we get out of this mess that we got ourselves in!_

In fact from the moment he had awoke to find a pale ghostly figure standing over his bed, Bilbo had thought of very little else.

"You have caused my employer quite a bit of aggravation, shall we see If I can't removing the thorn from his side?" pure cold malice, breathed through teeth sharpened into dangerous points and a long deadly knife pressed down into Bilbo's collar bone.

Bilbo stared wildly in horror and bewilderment in to dark pink eyes, that seemed to twist as the man smiled. Above the rushing blood in his ears, he heard the noise of his jumping heartbeat on a monitor somewhere- its frantic beeping made the albino smile wider.

"Shall I start with a maggot hole in your belly or go straight for something vital?" The albino asked mockingly, twisting his blade so that the tip cut through Bilbo's hospital gown and rested over his heart.

Then everything happened in a blur. There was a flash of red and a bellow rage, a great dull weight was thrown off Bilbo's body as the man straddling his waist stabbed his knife deep into the mattress, just beside Bilbo's head.

The world did a backflip and the air was punched out of Bilbo's lungs as he landed face first on the floor. His legs shook from lack of use and his arm arched with weakness, but his mind hard-pressed him onwards.

He needed safety. Sanctuary. He needed...

There was a scream and a pained desperate cry for help, adrenaline surged through his body and anger threatened to blind him as he pulled himself up on the wall, becoming very aware that his hospital gown gaped in the worst of places.

But air exploded, deafening and blinding flashes and bangs.

"_My love, my precious..." _

The world crashed around Bilbo and faltered, he faltered, he choked a painful sob...couldn't move as bullets and screams filled his ears.

Five bullets, five heartbeats, two screams of agony. Agony he was all too familiar with. Anger now, mixed potent with confusion was almost overwhelming. Half blind with madness, Bilbo's fingers closed around the chairs legs and with strength he didn't know he possessed, brought it down on the albino's head.

"The only escape for you will be death," the albino seethed dangerously through his teeth as he crumpled to the ground and his hand clutched at his bleeding temple.

Pits of fire burned into Bilbo's skull and seared the promise of death onto his heart. _"The only escape for you will be death," _Death would have been preferable to what Bilbo felt now, crippling fear, fear of the darkness, fear of... the words in the dark.

Air, he needed air. His feet slapped against cold concrete and his chest made wheezing noises but still he ran, searching for something, something that he'd once had but...

Air. Coldness and a few flurries of snow. A London rooftop and the city skyline filled with lights but all held no beauty for Bilbo now. They had been dulled, tarnished somehow. Huddled and shivering, his arms wrapped shaking around his legs as he sat hidden behind a hedge.

He needed... He didn't want to name what he needed, it sounded so pathetic and he had been humiliated enough.

Never again.

Never.

Bilbo looked up at the sound of the metal door clinking shut and a tall figure taking a slow walk towards the bench in front of his hiding spot. Actually, he didn't walk, he stalked. Slow and luscious strides with long long legs fully stretched and shoulders held high. If the rooftop had been full the crowd would have parted in reverence.

He needed...

Darting a hand through the thin branches of the hedge, Bilbo snatched up the coat, badge and flying saucers. The coat, thick and woollen, with the ghost of body heat still in the sleeves was bliss to Bilbo's shivering frame. And then with shaking hands he flipped open the black leather wallet, the police badge was the most welcome sight Bilbo had ever seen.

The cab stopped outside a shop with bars across the darkened window, Bilbo looked out on top the darkened street, then looked away quickly. Thorin paid the cabbie and after giving his a considerable tip, then leaned across Bilbo to open the cad door.

"If you think I'm waiting all night, you can think again," Thorin shrugged as he waited, holding the door open for Bilbo. Bilbo winced as he leaned on the door and absently Thorin took his waist and lifted him down.

Slamming the car door shut and waving the driver off, Thorin worked purposely slow by Bilbo's side, making an obvious effort to show him sympathy. Bilbo appreciated it.

Arkenstone place was a quiet part of Hammersmith and good neighbourhood to live in. It was well lit and few cars and cabs travelled by this time of the evening, but even so Thorin checked up and down the road before Bilbo threw that stood beside the darkened shop. After fumbling with his ring of keys, unlocking both a metal grill and the blue door behind, he ushered Bilbo in and locked the door behind them.

There were two flights of stairs and yet another door, but soon Bilbo found himself standing in Thorin's hallway and had completely no idea of what to say.

The flat was actually rather large by London standards. It was open plan, studio type with a long windows that the room with moonlight before Thorin flicked on the light. There was a smallish kitchen with a breakfast bar lined with stools. Straight off the hallway, Bilbo caught sight of an unmade bed through the crack in the door but Thorin quickly closed it.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess. I was gonna' clean but...I got busy with well... you know," he mumbled with embarrassment, he shrugged and they stood awkwardly for a moment, shuffling feet and not knowing what to do next.

Thankfully that was when Bilbo's belly let out a howl of hunger. With a light chuckle, Thorin hung up his coat on a hook and went to the kitchen. As if in a dream, Bilbo followed, lured by Thorin's confident steps and the promise of food.

The fluorescent bulb flickered to life and Thorin pottered around checking the empty fridge and then pulling out takeaway menus.

"Chinese or Indian?" Thorin asked lightly, holding up the glossy pamphlets for Bilbo to look at. Awkwardly pulling back the cuff of Thorin's jacket, Bilbo pointed at the Chinese as a small smile cracked his face. It started as a smile, than a chuckle, then a full blown howl of laughter at the entire absurdity of the situation.

He was stood in damp socks, draped in a coat that would Harry Munster with his bare arse getting scratchy from the wool, topped off with a scarf that smelled of Old Spice and old whiskey. He would let his life slip away in the blink of an eye if it meant getting revenge, Bilbo Baggins had been dismantled brick by brick, then seemingly mended. Fuck. What was happening? Just...what.

"You are suffering from shock," Thorin said matter-of-factly, slapping the menus down on the counter with almost an angry flick of his wrist and beckoned Bilbo to sit on one of the tall breakfast bar stools.

Bilbo flinched a little as Thorin's hand moved but covered it by pretending to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. He kept his hands busy by clinging to the hem of Thorin's coat and he kept his eyes on his lap while Thorin moved around him.

After a few moments of silence, Bilbo heard the scrape of a chair against the tiled floor and felt a warm hand touch his shoulder.

"Bilbo, I need to assess your injuries okay?" Thorin said carefully. He was knelt between Bilbo's legs, a first aid box by his side and a small bowl of warm water by the other. "May I?" he said kindly, fixing Bilbo with an earnest look as his hands hovered with a small torch held between his fingers.

Bilbo nodded slowly, leaning down so that Thorin could touch his brow. Bilbo was silent, unmoving except for a few stiff nods and in compliance to Thorin's gentle requests.

His pupils responded well to the light and after a few more tests, Thorin found that he had no broken bones or concussion. But still Thorin felt so helpless, this man who had been daring and cunning was now...just a shell.

"Does anything else hurt? Apart from your..."Thorin asked carefully, just letting his fingers trace over the bandages wrapped round Bilbo's wrists but Bilbo pulled back suddenly, tugging his hands into the excessive sleeves of the coat. But then paused, his arms hovered in mid air and then gently began to tease away at the scarf at his neck.

Perfectly in between his collar bones was two small incisions that formed a cross, they were too shallow to pose a danger but by the dried blood on the tattered hospital smock, the cut had bled for a while. It was like twisted kiss at the end of a love letter.

Thorin swallowed and looked away quickly. Personal, intermit, certainly committed by tonight's attacker, it was ...chilling.

"Here." Suddenly overcome with anger and nausea, Thorin offered Bilbo some cotton wool soaked in the warm water and quickly disappeared into the bedroom.

Bilbo sat dumbstruck for a moment , absently dabbing himself with TCP when Thorin returned to the kitchen with his arms heavy with clothes.

"My nephew sometimes recuperates from hangovers here, so after a nasty cause of Jack Daniels syndrome left him naked on the sofa, I started hording clothes for him." He smirked at the memory as he dumped the clothing unceremoniously into Bilbo's lap and then waved him to follow.

They moved to the fair side of the bedroom that apparently Thorin had cleaned as he was gathering clothing and showed Bilbo to the door of the ensuite. The light was on, shining of the new tiles that Thorin himself had put in during the summer with toiletries and guest towels {both presents from Dis that he'd never used} stood by the polished sink.

"I thought after a hot shower you'd ..."Thorin floundered as Bilbo peered into the bathroom, the clothes clutched to his chest like a safety vest. Thorin made to pat Bilbo on the back then thought better of it and just gave him a reassuring nod. "If you need me, just shout and I'll come."

"36 and 79, and its Bill if you don't mind,"

Thorin's foot hovered in midair as he'd reached the other side of the room, turning slowing, he stared at Bilbo; who after meeting his eye for the briefest of seconds turned his face to the carpet.

"Egg Fu Yung and sattay chicken, a very good choice," Thorin's lips tweaked as he acknowledged the takeaway order. He was about to make for the kitchen when he paused and called over his shoulder, "I prefer Bilbo, it suits you."

The hot water was both bliss and agony. It stung his cut and made the dressings on his wrists and back soggy, at some point Bilbo ripped them off in frustration and returned to soaping himself down. Cleansing, cleaning away the dark room and the male man, hoping the soap would wash away his memories.

It didn't but it certainly helped.

He stood, forehead leaning down against the tap, water pouring over his back and bit his lips as painful shaking sobs rocked through him. Relief. Comfort.

After what seemed like far too long and not long enough, Bilbo stepped out of the shower, a little thankful that he couldn't see his reflection in the fogged up mirror and wrapped himself head to toe in fluffy cream towels.

He tugged a comb through his wet curls and dabbed his feet with lavender talc powder. Eyeing the well worn tooth brush that sat alone in a cup next to the sink, Bilbo put toothpaste on his finger and brushed away the stale taste of his mouth.

The clothes were fair too big but a rolling up the legs of a pair of jogging bottoms and pulling on Metallica tour shirt, along with a pair of socks he felt almost human again.

Almost.

Peering around the edge of the door, Bilbo noted a couple of printed works of art hung on the walls- a couple of Rohan Eormer horse prints and some stills of the Blue Mountains in New Zealand – as he padded to the kitchen and beamed.

Thorin was juggling plates and brown paper bags to the sound of the microwave ding. "It came while you were in the shower, do want a can or something with it?" Thorin asked lightly, glancing over his shoulder as he took black bean stir fry out of the microwave.

"Got anything stronger?" Bilbo said automatically, grabbing plates and moving them to the breakfast bar. Thorin watched Bilbo carefully for a moment while the accountant busied himself with the food.

His curls lay damp at the nap of his neck and the Metallica shirt hung off his neck, showing off plaster in between his collar bones. Bilbo moved carefully but not as if he was injured but like he was playing at being normal, performing it but not being real.

He wasn't normal but if he wanted to pretend that was alright by him.

"Whiskey on ice?" he suggested, smirking how Bilbo nodded appreciably.

Flicking passed the news, Thorin switched on a documentary about inner city gardens and they both ate in silence as David Attenborough noted the growing size of bees on glover plants. It was quite and comfortable, Thorin watched Bilbo curiously as the young accountant fought not to stuff food into his mouth.

He was starving. When was the last time he'd eaten? When was the last time he'd been fed? Fork. Knife. Mouth. Chew x20. Swallow. Whiskey. Repeat. Controlled, mechanical, savouring each bite like it could be his last.

Sometime between his black beans and his chilli beef Thorin glanced at his phone.

_3 missed calls from Scale_

_1 missed call from Fili_

_2 missed calls from Kili_

_3 missed calls from Dis_

_1 unread message from Fili_

_1 unread message from Dwalin_

Sighing deeply, Thorin helped Bilbo clear the plates and put the remaining food into the fridge before filling the kettle and turning to Bilbo.

"Coffee?" Thorin asked lightly, noting how Bilbo savoured the feel of tap water running over his fingers as he washed the plates.

"Tea please, "

When all was dried and put away , they sat down in the living room, Bilbo curled on the over large sofa and Thorin in his favourite armchair. There was a heavy silence and a question lay in the air that Bilbo was dreading to answer.

"It all started when –"

"Bilbo, listen to me. You will have to tell me what happened but at this moment if you don't feel able well...I won't say I understand cause' I don't but if you need time-"

"No, no time like the present, right?" Bilbo tried to smile weakly but it was a false smile and Thorin saw right through it. Standing up, Thorin retrieved a dictaphone and Bilbo's file from his work draw of his bedside table , switching the recorder on, he placed on the table in front of Bilbo.

Thorin sat down in his armchair. "Tell me how it started?"


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone, look I'm sorry this is late but first RL happened than I got really ill and then I didn't know the purpose of this chapter. Just be jolly thankful I got it out at all, I was this close to putting this story on hiatus. I know whats going to happen but I just don't how to get there and it still be entertaining.Monday 24rd November- 8:45am

"This is DCI Thorin Oak, interviewing William Bilbo Baggins at precisely-" There was as slight pause on the tape when Thorin went to check his watch. "- 22:38 on the 23rd of November. Now Bilbo, I would like you to tell me how it started but if you feel overwhelmed or like you can't go on, just tell me and we'll take a break. Now, from the very beginning if you please."

The team surrounded the Dictaphone as it played on Dwalin's desk. Perched on tables and chairs; Dwalin, Thorin, Fili, Constable McLif , DI Gloin listened in rapture as Thorin's voice crackled through the small speaker.

Thorin turned away as a wave of nausea rocked through him. It was one thing to listen to Bilbo's account through a machine, but it had been another thing entirely to hear and see the emotion in his words. Bilbo had waged an inner battle with himself to keep his voice and hands steady as he relived those terrible events, Thorin could see his mind tearing itself apart but yet the accountant refused to retreat.

Thorin glanced up and nodded at the small figure that was sat watching the team from behind the glass windows of Thorin's office. Bilbo nodded back and tugged the zip of his borrowed fleecy jumper up to his chin and purposefully stared into the bottom of his coffee cup, making a real effort to ignore the nauseating looks of pity he was receiving from Thorin's team.

"I... I started work for Green Thumb's-"

"What is "Green Thumb's" exactly?" Thorin injected on the tape, his voice sounding so harsh that Thorin actually made himself wince. If that's what he sounded like in all interviews he pitied the criminals.

"Green Thumb's is a chain of gardening centres. When I first left home and came to London and I had nowhere to go. I happened to run into an old uni' pal Hamfast Gamgee at the King's Cross. He offered me a place to stay till I got on my feet but I knew he wouldn't want me to intrude for long, so I took a job as an accountant with the company," Bilbo took a long steadying breath and the was the sound of him placing a glass on Thorin's wooden coffee table.

"Why did you leave home? It says in my files that you were disowned," Thorin prompted, keeping his voice level around such a touchy subject.

The snorted laugh made the Dictaphone crackle and Thorin remembered the bitter look that came over Bilbo's face.

"My esteemed parents, lord and lady Baggins, took great exception to the fact that I prefer men to women and even more exception to the fact that I refused to marry a women just to provide them with heirs." Bitter and cold, Bilbo had almost snarled the names.

"So I would presume that you haven't spoken to them in quite some time?"

"My mother, Belladonna-," Bilbo cleared him throat and took a sip of whiskey. "She tried to send money... but it wasn't an apology. You know, money can't fix a heart that has been broken and I don't think she released that."

"Do they hold you any ill will?" A stupid question to ask Thorin thought, stupid and obvious.

There was a crackle of harsh laughter from Bilbo and a slight rustle on the tape as he wrapped his arms protectively round one of Thorin's cushions. "If you mean do they wish me dead then...No. I don't think so. It would make life easier for them certainly but my Father is quite comfortable just burning all my baby photos. I suppose my existence is easier to cover up that way. Ya'know, out of sight and out of mind and all that."

"Jesus, poor kid-," Dwalin growled under his breath as he ran a hand over his stubble.

There was a pause on the tape as Thorin tried to steer the interview away from a less touchy subject. "So, when did you start work at Green Thumb's?"

"It was 3 years ago in March-," Bilbo made a derisive noise and chuckled darkly," I was actually given a raise. A fucking raise and a promotion. Jesus! I what did I get to show for it, shoved in a fucking hole and ... Fuck!"

There was a rattle and thump as Bilbo shoved the pillow away and poured himself another whiskey, slamming the bottle down on the coffee table. Thorin had watched and waited in silence, the team listening visibly tensed as Bilbo composed himself.

"We can take a break if you like? That David Attenborough programmes still on if you wont to catch the end of it?" Thorin heard himself ask on the tape, he stared down at the thin carpet as his team shot him amused looks.

"I don't need...I don't need to be-," there was another pause as Bilbo let out a long calming breath. " After the other guy retired, I was given a promotion late July as the Head of European Imports of the Financial sector,"

"Sounds exciting-," Thorin commented dryly.

"I wasn't looking for excitement, I was looking for a steady wage and peace of mind. Ya' know, before I moved to London I'd never been self reliant and I found out that if I fucked up or had to go without food, I only had me to blame. So yeah, sorry Thorin, but we can't all be _Mr. Dashing DCI Oak_. Some of us need to be grocers or...or whatever-," there was a rustle as Bilbo shrugged and patted down his drying hair self consciously, Thorin had had to hide a grin behind his hand in an attempt to appear to remain professional.

In all his career he had never been described as _Dashing._

"I'm starting to like this guy," McLif smirked and shot Thorin a saucy look.

"So, "Head of European Imports of the Financial Sector", what is that exactly?"

"Well, its...Head of European imports, it does what it says on the tin. I kept track of the money coming in and out of Europe and what the company was paying to import and export flowers and whatnot. Such as keeping track of the tax and packaging costs... Ad that was how I noticed it."

The entire team leaned forward and listened closer, the CID office was so quiet that Thorin could have heard a pin drop.

There was a squeak of Thorin's armchair as the DCI had sat up straighter and leaned forward. "What did you notice?"

"The numbers...They didn't add up. I mean, they were an absolute work of fiction. Something Tolkien would have been proud of. It was like a five year old had slammed their hand down on a calculator. They were complete nonsense," Bilbo exclaimed passionately and he had pulled himself towards the edge of the sofa, leaning forward towards Thorin over the coffee table. "So, like a fool that I am, I send away for the original invoices from the shipping companies that we use. And noticed something very peculiar."

There was a tense pause and Thorin had actually jumped slightly as Bilbo grabbed the pumpkin USB off the table and held it in front of his eyes.

"You say you're boys broke the password, did you find the spreadsheets filled with numbers?" There was a pause as Thorin had nodded, too absorbed by the sudden fierceness of the small accountant to speak. "Good. I didn't have time to copy and paste all the invoices to the USB and I presume that my computer wasn't in my flat; the spreadsheets were weights, weights of changing imports and exports that came in and out of Britain. From one month to the next I found that that the weight we were bringing into Britain was always less than what we were sending out."

"At first I thought it was just a stupid quirk in the system and then I noticed something else, annually Green Thumb's was paying out ten thousand pounds every month to a company called Red Dragon,"

Dwalin and Thorin shared a silent look and nodded with understanding. Red Dragon, his grandfather's file- it was all connected.

"What is Red Dragon?" Thorin had asked and the DCI cringed inwardly as he heard the barely contained excitement in his voice.

"AH! Well isn't that the million dollar question. Or ten million pounds...I don't know precisely cause' the records weren't great but Green Thumb's had been shelling out for years. And for what I just don't know. My superiors told me to forget it but..."Bilbo sat back on the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. "Christ I should have listened to them. But I wouldn't let it go, it just kept niggling at me. So, I emailed the director of Red Dragon and got in contact with a Bert Huggins –,"

Dwalin spun on his chair and grabbed a telephone. "Can we get an APB on Bert Huggins?" Dwalin ordered and waited for a response, "thank you, yeah let us know." He nodded to Thorin and turned back to the Dictaphone.

"Do you have these emails on a work computer?" Thorin asked, thinking of principle evidence and a warrant for arrest.

"I worked from home, all my emails and files would have been on my laptop."

So, Bert Huggins?" Thorin had prompted, eager to get to the events of the 15th.

"I emailed him on the Monday night and explained to him what I'd found, then I waited for a response. At first I thought I had the wrong email because it was Wednesday by the time I got a response. Bert said we should meet and have dinner, like a great fool, I agreed. We arranged a meeting over the phone,"

"Where did you go?"

"The Laketowner, it's an expensive members only club down in Soho-," Thorin nodded for McLif to make a note and check the club out later, "we met at seven on the Wednesday and at first he was nice, polite, passionate about food and art, there was no mention of money. Well, not until he had to take a call. That was when his brother arrived."

"His brother?" Thorin had asked curiously, noting the slight tremble in Bilbo's voice.

"Yeah, Bill Huggins. He was... he looked so similar to his brother that I had to do a double take but he was different-,"

"Different how?"

"He...looking at him, you just knew he was dangerous. He had a glint in his eye of something that I couldn't place, he pushed a packet of money towards me across the table and said "we think it is for your own good that you take the money and forget he passed week."

"His exact words?" Thorin asked, his voice crackling through the Dictaphone.

"Trying to pay him off," Gloin breathed in disgust.

"To the letter. He was so intense and so serious, I couldn't say no," Bilbo gasped, the tape picking up the hint of panic in his tone.

"You took the money?" Thorin had asked in surprise and then all but recoiled back as Bilbo raged at him.

"Who do you think I am! Of course I didn't! Jesus Christ, I may be an accountant but I'm actually not that bothered about money! No, I said something stupid like...Ha! I think I said I had picked up a tummy bug- worms in my tubs- or something ridicules like that. I said I would think about it and excused myself because I was feeling ill," Bilbo smirked, letting out a dry tired chuckle.

"And that's when you called Gandalf?"

"I...I noticed that I was being watched, followed by someone I didn't recognise at work and outside the flat. No one just tries to hand you money for no reason, so I panicked, I sent Gandalf the USB hoping he would know what to do. I barely made it to the last post- shit I nearly knocked over Mrs. Sackville- but I posted it and then when II got back to my flat all I remember is standing in front of my chair and ...and and..."Bilbo took a large gulp of air and shook his head. He had relived it some many times in his head and he could relive it no more.

"Interview terminated at 23:12 pm..."

Thorin turned off the Dictaphone and tucked it safely into his trouser pocket, before turning to his team.

"Hell, what has he got himself involved in?" Dwalin grumbled, shaking his head as he took a gulp of cold coffee.

"Trafficking, but more importantly drug trafficking." Thorin said matter-of-factly in a tired voice as he slumped down on Dwalin's desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You want me to give a ring to narcotics, I'm sure Ori will more than happy to lend a hand though I'm not so sure how Nathan and Doris will take it," Fili added as he began scrolling through his phone and searching for Ori's number.

"No. For now, I want this kept within the team and if we can swing it I want a media blackout. Bilbo's had to go through enough to last him a life time," Thorin ordered sharply, in a tone that didn't allow any argument. As he got up from the desk and began to walk towards his office, Dwalin called over his shoulder.

"You're getting soft in your old age, what happened to the army Captain who didn't take any prisoners?" Dwalin smirked as he twirled on his desk chair.

"He had to suffer with you for nearly fifteen years, now haven't you got some paper to shuffle?!" Thorin barked but with good humour as he wrenched his office door open and closed the laughter of his team out behind him.

Bilbo was sat in his chair behind the desk, under a thick swath of curly hair his brow was furrowed with concentration as he read through the report on his lap. Thorin felt something snapped within him and his temper flared dangerously.

"That is private," he said coldly, keeping his hand clenched around the door handle to stop himself snatching the file from Bilbo. Bilbo looked up, his eyes quivering slightly and his lips parted as he stared at Thorin with a mix of disbelief and betrayal.

"This was never about a favour for Gandalf, was it?" Bilbo stated frostily as he slammed the file down on Thorin's desk. Pictures fell across the table and the scrap of paper with his Grandfather's writing on stared up from the pile of SOC photos.

_Red Dragon. _

"DCI Oak, do you want to tell me the truth about what this is really about and the truth this time, if it you please!?"


	8. Chapter 8

I know, again I am sorry. I am making a bad habit of doing this last minute but have so much uni stuff to get sorted. But good news everyone! Exciting times ahead and action ahoy! Monday 24th November- 8:57am 

Bilbo would never really be able to tell how he was feeling as Thorin sat across from him, long legs crossed and stretched out in front of him, his dancing blue eyes never wavering from Bilbo's face. It was almost ethereal; how not one trance of emotion could pass over those hard lines and smooth planes of that pale face. Dark brows furrowed minutely and there was a slight twitch of the muscles under Thorin's eye but apart from that it was as if Thorin had been carved out of marble; warm, sleek marble, but marble none the less.

Words fell out of Bilbo's mouth before he really knew what he was saying. A pressure had been building up as if looking for some hidden release only to be lessen as Bilbo had tentatively started telling his story and as soon as he had began he found that he couldn't stop- well, only when the memories of faint shadows of the darkness had threatened to spoil Thorin's flat.

No, Thorin had no right to know. He didn't need to be burdened with Bilbo's terror. Some secrets were to remain bound in the darkness at the back of a person's mind and that is where Bilbo's would stay. The room and the pale man and the clammy fingers and the red eyes would all stay him and him alone.

"...but I posted it and then when II got back to my flat all I remember is standing in front of my chair and ...and and..." Something had threatened to spill over in Bilbo's voice and he loathed himself for how it trembled and how his hands had began to shake.

Thorin looked down at empty whiskey glass which was sat in his lap and looked up, giving Bilbo an understanding nod. Slowly and carefully- deliberately careful - Thorin had set his glass down on the table and picked up the Dictaphone, raising it to his lips and breathing into the speaker.

But Bilbo wasn't listening to his words- no- Bilbo was pondering. How could such a large dangerous looking man have such long delicate fingers? It was a mystery. Long and tapered but strong, they curled around the black Dictaphone that was pressed against Thorin's mouth. His mouth: another mystery. Such a laughing mocking kind of curl danced along their edges, and yet their earthy rose hue and beckoning plumpness was almost sinfully in its hedonism. To feel those lips brush his cheeks as he kissed along the sharp edge of that jaw, savouring the rasp of stubble under his fingers and running his fingers under the great swaths of black hair and massaging the scalp underneath while...

_"If you ever let anyone touch my Precious, I will skin you alive and eat your pretty little bonses'. Never think you are safe from me, I shall be with you always."_

The voice came from the dark recesses of his mind. Creeping into his ear and curling like a demon smoke around his mind, strangling his throat and making cold sweat run down the back of Bilbo's neck.

_"- I shall always be with you," _Never had a statement been more true. No indeed, some memories are never to be told and this one, this pledge of manacling ownership Bilbo would take to his grave. Forever to be alone but forever to be safe.

Quickly shutting his eyes and giving his head a little shake, Bilbo began to plump a pillow and arranged it by the side of the sofa arm but Thorin's sharp voice cut through his slow movements.

"What are you doing?" Thorin asked suddenly as he returned from putting their glasses in the sink.

"Going to sleep, I am exhausted..." Bilbo began but Thorin snorted dismissively and began pulling blankets out of a nearby cupboard.

"You didn't think I changed the bed sheets for my own edification, did you? I think not, the guest always gets the bed. I put a tooth brush and some pyjamas out on the bed," Thorin said flatly, throwing blankets on the sofa that Bilbo had quickly vacated and presently stretched out on it, wrapping a long arm over his face as he did so.

It appeared there was to be no discussion about sleeping arrangements.

Bilbo shuffled for a moment before grabbing the pyjamas from the bed and going to bathroom to get changed. Facing away from the mirror, Bilbo pulled off the joggers and t shirt, folded them carefully and the pulled on the baggy grey t shirt and checked trousers. They were fair to big but soft and covered all the stark blue of the plasters that covered Bilbo's body.

And something else, tugging on the collar to his nose, Bilbo breathed in the heady scent of Old Spice, lynx and – Bilbo took another breath- tobacco and spearmint. Thorin had given him his shirt.

Bilbo actually grinned a little as he brushed his teeth with a new tooth brush and after some futile attempts to flatten his unruly curls, went to get into bed.

And so passed a very awkward five minutes, as Bilbo slipped into the king sized bed and laid silently staring up at the white ceiling while the bed's owner did the same on the sofa.

"Tomorrow I'll be taking you to Scotland Yard, don't worry you'll be safe there," Thorin stated unchallengingly, not removing the arm over his face. If Bilbo hadn't been so exhausted or so traumatised he would have found the image of Thorin's large arms and legs draped over the sides of the sofa amusing but at this moment in time Bilbo was struggling to keep his weary, damaged and slightly drunken mind from wondering into dark memories.

"That's... I suspected as much. Well...I umm,"

"Good night Mr Baggins," Thorin said quietly, reaching behind him and switching off the main light. Bilbo stiffened as darkness surrounded him and his was plunged head long into the room with clammy hands touching his body.

But the clammy hands never came.

Staving off a slight tremble, Bilbo pulled the blankets around his chin and tried to find the moon shining through the window but he didn't need to. Propped up in the corner of the room was a red neon light that said "Orchrist Motorcycles"

And at that moment Bilbo didn't know whether to hate or be grateful to the DCI, probably the latter. Thorin had made him a fucking night light.

The BBC radio 2 traffic report murmured along in the background of the flat as Thorin and Bilbo danced around each other in an awkward silent, and for Bilbo's part, slightly hung-over circle. Both men were aware that something very personal had passed between them last night and neither; due to British awkwardness or embarrassment; were not up to discussing it. So, they did what men and more importantly British men did best: pretend it didn't happen and everything was alright.

Thorin had laid out a pair of baggy jeans, a pair of trainers and an oversized fleecy zip up sweatshirt before Bilbo had woken up. After a few stiff attempts to get up and with a few popping joints, Bilbo managed to push himself out of bed and hold his head in his hands for a few minutes before groaning and getting to his feet.

"I've got a squad car picking us up in half an hour," Thorin stated in a raspy voice as he handed Bilbo over a cup of tea. Bilbo nodded his thanks and smiled slightly at how Thorin had remembered he preferred tea but then sobered instantly: it was his job to remember facts about victims of crime.

The DCI looked quite worse for wear after sleeping on the sofa. The bags under his eyes were tinged dark purple and set almost startling shadows against his cheeks, his cropped dark hair stuck up in hapless tangles and his six o'clock shadow was thicker than Bilbo could grow in a month.

After washing his face and running a toothbrush around his mouth, Bilbo was ushered into the backseat of a panda car and watched the back of Thorin's head for the entire journey to Scotland Yard. It daunting to say the least for at that moment with the siren and lights whirling; they must have been the fastest moving vehicle in London.

_This must be what the Queen feels like, _Bilbo thought airily as he was frog marched through yet another set of doors and no one even batted an eyelid as Thorin flashed his badge and nodded resolutely at similarly fierce looking police officers.

As they waited silently for the elevator a young women in police uniform marched up to Thorin and handed him a file, to which Thorin grimaced.

"Doris needs to go identify the body, he needs to sign off on it before sending it to burial. Also Scale has basically put out a search warrant for you. Apparently you were suppose to..." The officer began to lecture matter-of-factly but Thorin let out a low curse and tucked the brown file under his arm.

"If Scale wants this wrapped up by Thursday, then he'll have to just wait won't he," Thorin grumble, punched the elevator buttons with excessive force. In the cramped confines of the elevator, Thorin's broad shoulders took up the entire back wall, while Bilbo and the young officer stood opposite each other standing so close that they were breathing the same air.

"The front desk rang up when came in, the team are waiting to be briefed, they are all eager to meet the whirly Mr Baggins," the women glanced up and gave Bilbo a warm smile from under the thick swaths of black hair that framed her face.

"Hands off McLif," Thorin warned teasingly, crossing his hands over his chest and ignoring the soft blush that spread over Bilbo's cheeks.

The elevator dinged and Thorin set a fast pace through what seemed like endless corridors and officers, Bilbo had to jog along behind in case he got lost. At the end of a dull grey corridor, lit by fluorescent bulbs and computer screens, Thorin pushed a large pair of glass doors open and began tugging off his coat.

A group of five or six men and women watched silently as Bilbo followed in Thorin's wake into a glass walled office at the side of the large room. The DCI walked tall and with a uncertainty that could cause a reverent silence to fall at a Metallica concert. This was the man's war ground, where he fought tooth and nail for the city of London, the streets of London would be a melee of blood and tears if Thorin didn't protect the innocent with his sword like courage and shield of office. And at that moment, Bilbo was following him whole heartedly into the battleground.

"I've got to inform my team about the current situation then-," Thorin began, hanging his coat up on a hook on the back of the door and taking the Dictaphone out of the pocket.

"I've heard it once, I don't need to hear it again," Bilbo snapped suddenly, temper fraying from the tension that was slowly building in his gut.

"Very well, you may stay in my office," Thorin nodded before shutting the door behind him and marching towards where his team had congregated.

The slight bang of the door was almost deafening in its finality, it reminded Bilbo that Thorin wasn't his friend, wasn't a great warrior to protect him from the world, he was just a man doing his job. And for reasons Bilbo couldn't understand, that made him feel cold.

He shuffled for a moment than sat down at the desk, swinging on the chair and noting the half empty whiskey bottle in the top draw and the empty packet of cigarettes in the bin. The desk itself would have made his mother shiver at the state it was in, papers, crisp packets, several bags of flying saucers and stacks of files covered the desk and almost swamped the computer. All was covered in a layer of dust that made Bilbo sneeze and snuffle. Having no handkerchief of his own Bilbo glanced around for a roll of toilet paper or napkin, when his eyes fell on a file that had fallen on the floor and was sitting by the foot of Thorin's chair.

It was tattered and dog eared, older than the rest and lined with coffee stains, it appeared to have been read religiously over the years. It sparked something in Bilbo, a rash flare of Tookishness made him brush off the dust and set the file down on the desk.

_The Massacre of the Erebor Hotel-_ the aged ink on the head of the file read, sending a cold shiver up Bilbo's spine.

Surely it was private and confidential but with a quick glance through the window towards Thorin, Bilbo disregarded propriety for once and let his fingers lead him through the pages of the document.

Bilbo's eyes widened and his pulse began to race when he saw the names of the deceased and the horrifying pictures that went with them. DI Thror bared almost a startling resemblance to Thorin in the way his dead blue eyes searched Bilbo's face from the photo.

Pity welled up in Bilbo, _the poor poor man_ Bilbo thought. But then his eyes settled on something else, something peculiar, something that chilled the blood running through Bilbo's veins.

"That is private," Thorin had said in a obtuse tone that grated harshly on Bilbo's nerves as the DCI tried to squeeze the door knob into a diamond.

Anger and betrayal and a whole maelstrom of emotions seethed in Bilbo in those brief seconds but what was most overshadowing was loss.

Bilbo had lost his port in the storm.

"DCI Oak, do you want to tell me what this is really about and the truth this time, it you please!?" Bilbo snapped, shoving the file across the desk and sending a cascade of pictures skidding onto the floor.

_Red Dragon_

Thorin visibly swallowed and ran a tired hand over his stubble. For some moments he didn't speak, didn't move, just stared down at the scrap of evidence that lay at his feet. Finally, Thorin pushed away from the door and reached around his desk. Bilbo flinched back but Thorin didn't seem to care.

After extracting his last emergency pack of cigarettes, Thorin lit and breathed in one lungful of dry calming smoke. He turned his back on the pair of baleful hazel eye that watched his every movement and stared out the window, looking down on London's rainy morning skyline.

"Bilbo you must understand that I would have gladly helped you whether you'd come to me or Gandalf, but certainly I have gone above the call of duty due to the evidence that connected you with Red Dragon-," Thorin began, his voice chilling in its coolness.

"I only trusted you because Gandalf-," Bilbo snapped, his voice bordering on hysterical.

"Would you have really rejected me?! No, you wouldn't of. If solving your case helps me prove my Grandfather's innocence than why shouldn't I have used Gandalf's favour as a premiss to do so. Now, you should be silent and listen, then and only then will you understand."

Bilbo was silent, his knuckles clenched white on the plastic hand rests of Thorin's chair as he watched the tense shoulders of the DCI.

"My family has made somewhat of a tradition for itself making a career in Her Majesty's police force. I took after my father who took after his father and my nephews have taken after me. My Grandfather Thror was... and still is the most honourable police officer that will ever grace Scotland Yard but for all that he succumbed to-," there was a pause as Thorin dragged his hands through his hair. "In those days the force was corrupt, I was still just a boy and even I knew that the police took back handers. '

"When my Grandmother died Thror lost his way and lost favour with the wrong people, he was given false leads and poor Intel making his team doubt his leadership until one day he too doubted himself. He was a shadow of the man he was and the only way he could think of getting back in saddle was taking down the lead ringer of all the corruption.'

"Months maybe years , he spent as a double agent- I had just turned twenty two, when he left our family home."

"What was he doing all that time?" Bilbo heard himself ask, sitting on the edge of his chair and listening with baited breath.

"I...I don't know, dealing, doing jobs for the big boss but I...I just don't know. No one knew, Thror became fanatical about it. Until one night he came to my father and asked for him to lend him his gun-," Thorin paused again and tapped ash off the end of his cigarette.

"We didn't see him for days, weeks even until we got a call... His body was found with six other unnamed John Doe's in the penthouse suite of the Erebor Hotel. His wallet was gone and all they found in his pocket was that scrap of paper you see there," Thorin turned suddenly and paced to the desk, pulling the paper towards him with the tip of his finger.

"That doesn't sound so bad,"

"The other bodies had been shot with bullets from his gun, he was accused of murder and all the family estate seized. My Father went mad with grief and committed suicide when I was twenty five," Thorin said flatly and then waited for Bilbo to make a response, but none came.

"Shortly after I joined the army to help my sister and mother to get by, I was injured in action and while in intensive care in the Sudan my mother was killed in a hit and run. I was thirty."

What response could Bilbo really give to that? What response could anyone give to that?

Thorin's voice and tone were void and flat, but Bilbo could see underneath the callousness Thorin was brittle.

"And...Gandalf?"

"Gandalf...He cared for my family when I was unable. Army pay is halved when you are on sick leave and I had t save that to get home. Gandalf made sure they had food and a roof, he did the job that I was supposed to do...He kept my family alive and I will be ever in his debt. After I recovered from my injury and joined the police, I tried to reopen my grandfather's case but much of the evidence was either missing or destroyed and I was...shall we say discouraged from looking into it further. If Red Dragon is anyway to reclaim what was rightfully mine then I will take it and hold it tight with both hands."

"Fuck..." Bilbo breathed under his breath. The two men shared a look for a moment, holding each other's gaze and conveying two silent messages. Understanding and Regret.

Bilbo gave a nod and a slow smile, then without thinking pulled open the top draw of Thorin's desk along with e bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Unscrewing the top, Bilbo waited until the minute hand of the clock had finally reached twelve then poured them both a liberal glass.

It was after all a nine o'clock problem.

The two men clinked their plastic cups together and were about to take their first malt of the day when there was a urgent knock at the door.

"Come in," Thorin called in a stern voice, setting his cup down with regret.

Gloin popped his ginger head through the door and quickly glanced between Bilbo and Thorin before taking a big gulp of air.

"Yes Gloin, what is it?" Thorin asked, noting the tension that was radiating off Gloin.

"It's the Go Lem Sarg' , he's asked to speak to you personally,"


	9. Chapter 9

Hey, sorry this is late, again. Probably only two, maybe three more chapters left, so enjoy while you can.

**Monday 24th November- 9:17a**m

Thorin paused a moment as his fist wrapped around the metal door knob to Interview Room One. Two armed guards stood on either side of the door, INTERPOL written in white across their Kevlar vests, theirs faces looked ahead silently, ignoring Thorin's presence completely.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 breathe in.

No matter how many times Thorin tried to calm himself the pain and anger and all-consuming frustration still ate at his very bones. The pure nerve of the man! If indeed he was a man at all.

Thorin had heard stories, of course he had; Scotland Yard was a hot bed of gossip and intrigue, rumours of the infamous Go Lem had reached even an aloof detective like Thorin. Whisperings and hearsay could cloud a man's judgment and make the impossible seem possible. But then again the Go Lem had made a name for himself making the impossible probable. Still, this did not explain to Thorin why such a master criminal had made such poor mistake. Everything had been tailor made and almost to perfect, so perfect that Thorin shuddered to think of genius mind that could think up such a feet of criminal engineering, he shuddered to think of what would have happened if he wasn't such a good judge of someone's character and his blood froze to think of what would have become of Bilbo if he hadn't.

_"No, you've ruined it. He is mine! My precious!" _

Thorin had dreamt of that voice last night. The dry screech and the rasp of madness that had sent the Go Lem's voice dancing on the very edge of sanity. That pale skeletal man had fought and dragged at Dwalin's hands but his eyes never moved from Thorin. Those too large eyes, glinting with green, had seen him and saw something that the maddened creature wasn't letting on.

It worried itself deep within the recesses of Thorin's mind but at that moment, his breath held and his vice like grip making indentations in the metal, Thorin had more important things to think about.

_1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 breathe out. _

Thorin let out a long painful sigh, his frustration had not abated but his anger was in check. Readjusting the file under his arm, Thorin straightened his spine and put on his game face.

* * *

The harsh fluorescent light flickered and buzzed as the two men stared at each other across the grey table top. Neither made a noise but sat in contempt with the silent game that they were playing with each other, first one to break was the loser.

Both looked like corpses under the synthetic bulb, Thorin's dark hair sent jutting shadows across his sharp cheek bones, cloaking his eyes like coal pits flecked with shining glass. Go Lem's grey skin was given a sickly pallor, lack of sunlight made the purple veins just hidden under the green prison smock spread like the sucking tendrils of a plant up and around his thin jaw, random strings of grey hair were slicked back along his cranium, his round buggy eyes look all the bigger and twitched within the sockets with erratic snaps of energy. His thin lips drew into a thin bloodless smile and his ran a dry tongue over the front of his yellow teeth.

A muscle twitched in Thorin's jaw but he refused to be baited. Silently, without removing his eyes from Go Lem, Thorin removed from the file beside him and pushed them across the table, so that three stood in a line in the middle of the table.

The twisted remains to Thorin's Honda, a smiling picture of Bilbo and SOC photo of Bilbo's dungeon.

The skin around Go Lem's eyes pulled and wrinkled like drawing a pair of grey curtains across a stage and revealing the macabre glint of insanity within. A thin hand crawled over the top of the table, handcuffs clinking lightly as Go Lem lovingly smoothed his fingers over Bilbo's image and pulled the photo towards him.

Thorin watched, revulsion and nausea warring in the pit of his stomach as Go Lem whispered and purred, rubbing the picture sensually up his neck and across his mouth.

It became clear what Bilbo had suffered and Thorin felt sickened.

"Tell me the connection you have with this man?" Thorin asked suddenly, his voice dead pan and harsh, seeming to boom against the irritating buzz the fluorescent light.

Go Lem's eyes flicked to Thorin above the photo and his lips twitched, showing off his yellow teeth again. "He is my precious. Mine and mine alone, he is-," Go Lem began to whisper, as if savouring how the words felt in his mouth.

"You do not own him!" Thorin snapped viciously, all semblance of control gone in a matter of moments and his deadly anger rearing its ugly head. Shallow were his breaths, Thorin had to prize his fingers off the edge of the table to stop himself from launching across it.

The mirror behind him trembled slightly with vibrations from within the observation room, his team would be watching his every move. They had been with him since he had been first made DCI, they were his men as much as he was theirs, so they would know truly how close Thorin was to slamming Go Lem's face into the table.

"Oh, but I do, DCI Oak, but I do. He was given to me," Go Lem grinned, tucking Bilbo's picture into his baggy smock.

"Given to you by whom?" Thorin heard himself asked as he strained not to lean forward and snatch back the photo.

Go Lem grinned again and pushed his hands against his mouth, his thin shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress high pitched giggles that erupted from his throat. "Mustn't ask, not is' business," Go Lem giggled shallowly, his body starting to tremor and quirk with effort as the pale man tried to keep himself upright on the chair.

"All crime is my business. Now, tell me who said he was yours?" Thorin demanded in a barely audible growl which made Go Lem laugh all the louder. He held his sides and shook his head at apparent hilarity of Thorin's questions.

Fifteen minutes was exactly how long Thorin could keep his temper.

Launched to his feet, Thorin slammed his hands down on to the table hard enough to make the interview room echo. "TELL ME NOW!" Thorin seethed dangerously, enjoying how the twisted little man squeaked in horror and fell silent.

Thorin paused, his breath coming out in short gusts and his chest rising and falling rapidly, he waited until he had control; watching the faint quiver of large green eyes and tremble of lips, he waited, letting the silence thicken as he bared down on Bilbo's tormentor.

_Good. Let the fucker know fear. Let him fear and let him know what it feels like to fear. Give him a taste of his own medicine. _

Thorin straightened suddenly and turned, shooting a quick glance up at the two way mirror, he dragged a hand through his knotted hair before resting his hands on the back of his chair. "Tell me." Thorin repeated in a neutral voice, his sudden bust of anger eating away at his remaining energy.

Go Lem was silent. His head and hands shook, and his fingers sought Bilbo's photo within the folds of his smock, he pressed the photo against his face and mumbled into it.

"Musn't ask, not is' business. Mustn't ask, not is' business…." He repeated over and over, with varying degrees of desperation and hysteria.

Thorin let the man have his histrionics, most of the time people need a good emotional breakdown before pulling themselves together and spilling the beans. Thorin sat on the chair and began to flick through Go Lem's file.

It was a long line of murders, kidnapping, larceny, with years in between each act. He was a cold, calculating criminal mind and if what the psychologist's report said was true; then Go Lem was also cunningly sane and hiding behind the mask of insanity.

He was as sane as Thorin was, which meant one important thing, Thorin could play his game.

Go Lem had worked his way through Europe, but the Why? Had always eluded INTERPOL it seemed. But not for much longer, if Thorin had learned one thing from Go Lem's outburst it was that Go Lem was working for someone.

With a ragged sigh and a sniffle, Go Lem sat up and crawled back into his seat. He stroked one emaciated finger down the side of Bilbo's cheeks before kissing the photo and tucking it back into his smock with a clink of his handcuffs.

Thorin's knee began to bounce under the table.

"Tell me Go Lem-," Thorin began another tack, using his name connoted familiarity, and as such a controlling person, Go Lem would enjoy feeling like Thorin was dependant on his knowledge. "- do you know anything about explosives?" Thorin asked keeping his voice light as he pushed the photo of his ruined car across the table top.

"Explosives! AH! Nasty things they are, no not explosives," Go Lem piped up, wagging an emaciated finger with mock chastisement.

"So, your boss wanted your special skills of…" Thorin let the words fall away so that the ever helpful Go Lem could fill them in for him.

"Of making people disappear and hiding them away," Go Lem's lips pulled themselves into a thin smile and wistfully stroked Bilbo's picture through the fabric of his smock.

"And you were asked to kidnap Bilbo Baggins?" Thorin commented quickly

Go Lem gaped at Thorin as if he had said something absurd, his mouth opened and he began to shake his head severely. "No, no. Not kidnap Baggins, never kidnap," Go Lem said earnestly, as if kidnap was a crime that was fair below him.

Thorin frowned. _No, you didn't kidnap Bilbo, you tortured and molested him to the brink of insanity! _A furious voice in the back of Thorin's head shouted.

"So if you didn't kidnap Mr Baggins, what would you call what you did to him?" Thorin asked through gritted teeth as once again he felt his anger rise and his blood pressure went up several notches.

Go Lem was silent. His large sickly eyes watched Thorin's face with unblinking scrutiny. Muscles in his jaw jumped as half his upper lip curled upwards in a look of distain, resting his manacled hands on the tabletop, Go Lem leaned forward and stretched his face towards Thorin.

"E' is my treasure, my pretty little reward. Theys' wanted em' dead but Go Lem did a deal," Go Lem whispered, his reeking breath and wet lips making Thorin's stomach churn. The pale man still hadn't blinked.

"He was your reward, reward for what?" Thorin asked resisting the urge to sit forward in his chair. The ownership, the possessiveness; to Go Lem Bilbo was no more than a pet, an animal whose sole purpose was his entertainment. A burning to desire to put a bullet in Go Lem's forehead was almost over powering and Thorin was pretty sure that if he'd had his gun, he would have eradicated this filth once and for all.

Go Lem's mouth opened and his thin lips moved noiselessly, making wet sounds as he tongue flicked out and tasted the air. His long emaciated fingers were spread out on the table, they were thin but Thorin noted how muscled they were, his body tense and his eyes unflinching. He was silent as his buggy eyes glared glassily at Thorin.

"Go Lem, you going to spend decades repaying society for all your crimes, so you may as well tell me now or get it extracted from you later. What was Bilbo Baggins a reward for!?" Thorin prompted tightly, his voice an eerie calm that barely covered the churning anger inside of him.

Suddenly, the room light up with red light and the fire alarm blared once, twice before Thorin was plunged into all-consuming darkness.

_Fuck._

Thorin bolted to his feet, kicking away his chair and pressing his back to the mirror behind him. There was no point making for the door, they were electronically controlled via a CCTV system, so if the power was out it meant they were trapped. For a second he thought about banging on the two way glass but instead reached for his hip and pulled his gun free, resting his finger over the safety as he held it up by his shoulder.

"Stay in your fucking seat! Don't you dare move a muscle," Thorin snarled into the darkness as he heard the sound of metal clinking.

Thorin turned off the safety of his police issue gun with a loud click and rested his finger over the trigger but it was already too late. A dull weight fell onto the top of his back, knocking him forward as clammy hands closed around his nose and throat, skinny legs wrapped around his chest and began to contract like a vice around his ribs.

Two bullets exploded out of Thorin's gun, he wildly tried to throw Go Lem off but with every movement his body got heavier and his chest and lungs burned for oxygen. Above the muffled curses and bellows of rage, Thorin felt Go Lem's breath on his neck and words whispered in his ear.

"Bilbo is mine! My precious, my reward for killin' nasty Thorin Oak. Red Dragon wants yous' dead, so Go Lem will squeeze the life out of you, all in return for my precious."

The world burst into stars and blinding colours as the edge of the table was rammed into Thorin's temple, his knees buckled and Go Lem's dead weight punched all the remaining air out of Thorin's lungs.

High pitched laughter was washed away by the roar of air.

* * *

Should probably mention that Gollum's character in this story is loosely based on an assassin from Sherlock and Jewish Mythology called the Golem, his MO is to squeeze the life out of people with his bare hands.


	10. Chapter 10

I really hope all the Italics and Bold text has transferred okay, it is really important in this chapter. -BADPENNY

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Monday 24th November- 9: 36am

Bilbo twirled around on the desk table as the mind numbing boredom set in. I don't know if Bilbo would have actually descried being the center of a police investigation fun, but it was certainly better than sitting in his grey office and staring at a poster of a cat on a washing line.

There was anticipation in the atmosphere that Bilbo couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like the taste of the air just before a storm, you knew you shouldn't be outside but all you wanted to do was watch the lightning. Being in Thorin's world, so to speak, Bilbo could see what set Thorin apart from his team and the other coppers; he was tranquil in a forest of live wires.

People buzzed around him giving him side long glances of sympathy and pity when they thought he wouldn't notice: but he would always see. It didn't matter if it was a sideways glance over the photocopier or an open stare at his bruises, they were all the same and they all left him feeling raw and empty. But Thorin was odd. When he had cleaned Bilbo's cuts and scrapes the night before, he had been deadly furious and yet careful enough to protect Bilbo from his anger, it was not a look that was filled with pity.

"Baggins, you got a minute?" Dwalin's gruff voice pulled Bilbo out of his dark thoughts. Bilbo looked up from the empty plastic cup that smelled like whiskey and looked up to find Dwalin's bulk filling the doorway. The man was taller than Thorin and even more intimidating, but Bilbo could see a softness in those amber coloured eyes which made him feel at easy.

"I'm not exactly busy," Bilbo replied evenly, shrugging his oversized fleecy jumper up a bit so that he could see his hands. He followed behind Dwalin, puffing a little as he tried to keep up with the tall man's pace and marched out of the main office to a room adjacent to the main corridor.

It was small and a little cramped with two desks stood at either end of the room and a photocopier covered with mugs pushed under the window. One desk was perfectly neat with all the paperwork in perpendicular piles and family photos covering about every available service, while the opposite desk was what Bilbo's mother would have called a Humanitarian Hazard.

Incidentally Dwalin sat behind the messy desk and kicked out a chair for Bilbo to sit on. Tapping at the keyboard a moment, Dwalin and Bilbo sat in silence while the DI stared intently at the screen and Bilbo stared at the heinous mess Dwalin called his desk.

It was covered in…Well, it was just covered; A dozen polystyrene coffee cups crowned the top of the computer monitor, several empty bags of Jelly Babies had been shoved under a bottle of lucazade, sandwich wrappers and empty boxes of cigs were haphazardly crammed between towers of brown files, and to top it all off he had a at least four open boxes of biscuits.

"About five minutes ago, we got a call from front desk to say that your Bert Huggins had just walked in and declared himself," Dwalin said in a dead pan voice, not looking up from the computer screen as his fingers danced over the keyboard.

Bilbo suppressed the manic urge to clean and looked up in surprise. "That was quick."

"Too quick, usually takes hours, sometimes days for our boys to pick an APB up. But he just walked in," Dwalin swung on his chair and began digging haphazdly through files, sending many crashing to the floor in a melee of paper and SOC photos. He pulled out a file and slapped it on to the desk before grabbing the computer screen and turning it towards Bilbo. "Recognise him?"

The picture was a little fuzzy, taken by the CCTV in the down stairs reception it showed a tall bald middle aged man approaching the custody desk not five minutes ago.

"I…I can't be definite, he and his brother looked so alike. They were spitting images of each other, the only way you could tell is through posture and…I… and I can't condemn a man who is innocent, I just can't take that chance," Bilbo stammered, wringing his hands on his lap as the real meaning of Dwalin's words hit home.

He held power in his hands for the first time in his entire life. Bilbo had never wanted money or supremacy, even the idea of having that kind of control made his stomach churn. To think, Bilbo Baggins, the man who couldn't pick which machine to use at the laundrette, now had control of a man's freedom. Bert hadn't actually done anything, apart from be an amiable dinner companion, it was Bill who was the real worry.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Bilbo tried to calm himself and clear his mind.

Innocent until proven guilty. Innocent until proven guilty. Bert was just another bystander in the run of bad luck that made up Bilbo's life at the moment. .

"Dwalin, I can't tell if it's him," Bilbo said stubbornly, leaning forward to grip the edge of the dirty desk as tension rippled through him.

"Alright, calm the fuck down. No one said anything about condemning. This just means that we'll have to do an observation," Dwalin snapped in exasperation, snatching up the telephone which had been hiding under an issue of Guns and Ammo, and jabbing at the numbers. He tapped his pen impatiently a few times as he waited for someone to pick up, he glanced at his watch twice and then at the clock on the wall.

"Bout' time. This is DI Fundinson, I hear you've got a Bert Huggins at front desk…." Dwalin listened as the front desk reported back to him. Bilbo noted how his shoulders visibly tensed. "Give him a caution and use full restraint if necessary. Is the Custody Sargent with him?... Right, I want him in Interview Room One, I'll be down in a minute….Well, put him in Room Two then." Dwalin barked down the phone, slamming down the receiver as he got to his feet and began pulling on a tweed jacket.

"What's going on?" Bilbo asked, springing to his feet as Dwalin grabbed up handfuls of paper work, sweeping past Bilbo and making for the doorway.

"I thought you said Bert was an alright sort of geezer?"

"Well, he seemed alright to me. Why? What's he done?" Bilbo asked hurriedly as he jogged alongside Dwalin, following the police officer down the long corridor and towards a door marked 'stairwell'.

"Something along the lines of disturbing the peace and abusive behaviour, got to hand it to the guy, for someone who handed himself in he's certainly going down fighting," Dwalin added as he descended yet another flight of concrete stairs.

"Wait…wait, hold up. Are we talking about the same Bert Huggins? Cause if we are I don't wanna meet the abusive violent Bert. Give me the one who told food jokes any day," Bilbo complained, panting a little as he tried catch up to Dwalin.

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, Dwalin paused at the fire door and gave Bilbo a withering look. "Two way glass, the greatest invention for big girl's blouses like you in the 21st century," he stated dryly, pulling open the door and striding through, leaving Bilbo to look perplexed.

"I'm not a fucking big girl's blouse! I would just like to keep my head from being smashed in. Thank you very much!"

*0*

It was a disconcerting thing for Bilbo to watch unseen as Dwalin and the Custody Sargent led Bert Huggins into Interview Room Two. Standing in complete darkness was bad enough but having to judge a man innocent or guilty was worse.

Was Bert just a pawn in someone's game like he had been? Did he know anything at all?

Only time would tell.

Constable McLif entered suddenly, making Bilbo jump out of his seat. Jesus! He was a bundle of nerves.

The Constable put her finger to her lips, indicating a little patronisingly that he should be quiet and began fiddling about with the knobs of the recording equipment. Sitting with his back towards the two way mirror, Dwalin sat in front of Bert but just to the left so that Bilbo could still see Bert's face.

"This is DI Fundinson interviewing Bert Huggins in Interview Room Two. The time is-," Dwalin dug his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table, "9:51 am on Monday 24th November. Mr Huggins-,"

"Call me Bert, please," Bert interjected in a pleasant voice, giving Dwalin a broad smile as he did so. Bert was just how Bilbo remembered. His head was shaved close to the skin but white stubble covered his pale chin. Bilbo couldn't guess his age, Bert had one of those faces that was aged and ageless at the same time. He was taller than Bilbo, but then many people were; he was average height, build and looks. All in all, Bert was a very average and normal person. His clothes were a set of beige chinos and baggy white polo shirt, finished off with a pair of polished tan moccasins. He sat straight in the plastic chair as Dwalin laid down a brow file on the desk and addressed him in a stern tone.

"Tell me about your dealings with Mr Bilbo Baggins?"

"Mr Baggins emailed me about his companies payments to my firm," Bert answered easily, smiling warmly as he did so.

"And can you explain the payments? From data Scotland Yard have recovered, we know that your company was receiving ten thousand pound a month from Green Thumbs."

"Finance isn't my division," Bert said smoothly, his smile never faltering off his face.

Bilbo could see Dwalin's back muscles tighten and coil, he leaned forward his chair, bracing his hands on the table in front of him. Bilbo was glad he wasn't in Bert's place, for Dwalin was truly a dangerous man to mess with.

"And what is your division Mr Huggins? If you knew nothing of finance why did you respond to Bilbo's email?"

Bert's head dipped slightly, his face falling into shadow and darkness covering his sunken eyes. "We needed to know," he whispered under his breath like a dry rasp catching in his throat.

Bilbo silently got up from his chair and placed a hand against the two way glass.

"You needed to know what?" Dwalin snapped, slapping his hand down on the table. Bert's head snapped up suddenly, his face sunny and all smiles again.

"I don't know, I don't deal with those ends of the business. I am just the face and the smiles, you know. The outside image of the corporation," Bert chirped jovially, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin upon his hands.

"Do tell me what Red Dragon does, I would just love to know," Dwalin said tightly, his words clipped as he grounded the words with his teeth.

Bert ran his hands over his bald head and chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he did so. He pushed his chair back from the table and smiled warmly at Dwalin, sighing as he did so.

"Care to share the joke?" Dwalin asked derisively, crossing his arms over his broad chest and setting Bert with a cold glare.

"It's a pity, I kind of liked you," Bert chuckled before throwing his head back and slamming his hands down on the table. His mouth gaped and drew into a silent scream, his throat convulsed as his a fist was being forced up from his throat. Bert's face turned purple and his eyes rolled back into his head as blood ran from the inside of his clenched fist.

Blood roared in Bilbo's ears as the progressing events honed into crystal clear and terrifying clarity. He turned to shout at McLif but it was already too late.

"Bert!" Dwalin growled, jumping to his feet. Dwalin was at his side in an instant, checking for a pulse in the straining neck and pulling back the eyelid to see a dilated blood shot pupil.

"Call an ambulance! He's having a fucking seizure!" Dwalin shouted at the two way glass as he dragged Bert on to the floor and tried to get him into the recovery position.

"Fuck!" Mclif swore as she scrambled for the door but Bilbo grabbed her belt, snatching the walkie-talkie and pressing it to his lips.

"Help! We have a situation in Interview Room Two! Bert is Bill! You hear!" Bilbo screamed incoherently, hoping beyond hope that Thorin or someone would hear.

The world crashed around Bilbo's ears in a shatter of glass and rib cracking weight slammed into his side. Dwalin was thrown threw the mirror with so much force that he pinned Bilbo to the opposite wall. With a cry, Bilbo covered his ears and huddled over Dwalin's bleeding head as three gun shots ran out.

There was a scream, then a cold and chilling silence fell. The only sound that could be heard was McLif choking on her own blood.

Bilbo looked up to see blood pouring from the Constables throat as she slide down to the wall by the door. Bert was standing over her, gun raised.

No, not Bert, Bill Huggins.

"**Bilbo, you should have taken my offer**," Bert said in a cold husky voice. He bent down and cleaned his gun on the corner of McLif's uniform, then turned and stalked towards Bilbo.

"You shot her," Bilbo heard himself say, a numb feeling spread through his body making Dwalin's unconscious weight turn to lead.

Bert's head snapped to a side and he let out a high pitched giggle. "_We did, wes' shot her" Right in the heart! Pity, she would have tasty bite," _Bert shrieked as he wriggled down onto all fours and licked his lips in McLif's direction.

"I'm sure she was a very nice young women, once you got to know her of course. But was there really need to shot her in the chest? This is a clean shirt, blood stains are an absolute nightmare."

**"Shut up Bert, if someone askes' for your opinion then speak but your silence improves the room,"**

_"Hah, you told him Bill, you told im' good! You should cut out is tongue to stop im' from making more racket, that's what, cut it out good!"_

"You always take is side!"

**"Tom, you make one more noise and I'll have Go Lem go and hide you away like he did Baggins over there,"**

_"You wont! You're bluffin'! Nah, anyaway I could take a scrawny maggot like him!"_

**"Really? Well, how abouts' Azog then? I'm sure he needs plenty of things to blow up in his spare time."**

"You two are just hopeless. For one thing Azog is far too busy that stations power grid to deal with Tom now, and as for Go Lem no doubt he's got his work cut out taking down that Thorin chap'. No, if you want Tom handled properly, he's got to go to the best and that would be the Big Boss,"

The man was mad!

Bilbo watched in terrified silence as Bert's face contorted and twisted into three grotesque masks, his voice warbled and deepened and his posture morphed from four legged animal to hunched over man to feminine man.

Dwalin groaned and tried to shift slightly, but Bilbo stilled his movements by pressing his hands against his back and covering himself more over Dwalin's body.

_"Whats' we do now then?" _

**"We wait until Azog cuts the power and then make it look like DI Fundinson just couldn't take the stress anymore. White Butterfly's all round I think. What do you think boys, quick death or slow death? I was thinking Columbian necktie,"**

_"Columbian necktie! Please Bill, that's my favourites. So much blood, too little time'"_

"Do try not to get it on my shirt," Bert said as he turned once again to Bilbo.

Dwalin tried to move again and Bilbo had to hold his arms tighter around the DI's head to hold him in place.

Bilbo's mind was racing, his heart was skipping beats and cold sweat was running down his spine. In the back of his mind he noted that he had been holding a breath for some minutes when he found his mouth speaking.

"You can't kill me," Bilbo gasped out, his voice hoarse from his growing hysteria. Tom's face curled into confusion and his head snapped round and returned to Bill's cold stony features.

**"Oh yeah, whys' that then?" **Bill asked gruffly as he idly checked the barrel of his gun.

"Cause…cause, the Go Lem. The Go Lem said no one was to touch me. I am his. I am sure he would be very **very **angry with you if you did kill me." Somehow Bilbo made voice sound strong and certain, he nodded fervently as if he was merely discussing the cricket scores in the pub.

_"No one said out' to us,"_

"Well, I think I know him a bit better than you lot do," Bilbo snapped matter-of-factly, desperation and adrenalin sending cold shivers down Bilbo's spine as Bill lowered his gun.

For a sickening second Bilbo stared down the smoking barrel.

Bill let out a cold humourless laugh that mutated into a shrill shallow shriek, dying down into hearty chuckle.

**"Well, we'll see how much he likes is' little pet when is' brain is making the wall a new shade of red," **

Bilbo watched, frozen in fear and trapped under Dwalin's weight as Bill/Bert/ Tom drew their thumb over the safety and moved to squeeze the trigger.

Click.

The darkness of the barrel was too much for Bilbo. He had had enough of darkness, and he certainly didn't want his last few seconds filled with it.

Bilbo closed his eyes and thought back. Passed the pain and the dark, Bilbo thought of comfort.

Bilbo thought of Th….

The air kicked out of his lungs and the ground flipped under him, his organs protested and blood hammered against his ear drum. The collar of his fleece was dragged and tore as a strong pair of hands hauled Bilbo up and away.

Up and away his body went, Bilbo's mind noting that red mist flew through the air as the opposite all came to meet him.

His head slammed and dented the thin plaster wall, leaving Bilbo's head spinning. His knees buckled and turned to jelly as he slumped to the floor. The world gave a sickening tilt, trying to steady himself, Bilbo covered his ears but the noise wouldn't stop.

Screaming.

Bilbo looked up. Dwalin's agonising screams as Bill stamped on the Dwalin's ruined shoulder. The DI was pinned helpless and in pain. Blood smeared the opposite wall where Bilbo had been sat and spurted from the remains of Dwalin's shoulder.

He had saved him.

Dwalin screamed again as, in a futile attempt, his tried to pry Bill's boot off him but Bill smiled smirked and kicked Dwalin in the belly, making his body wrench upwards and pull against the torn flesh.

Bilbo saw red.

He found a strength in himself that was born of anger and rage and all the pain and hurt that had been caused. He took that anger, that burning ferocity, and channelled it.

His hands closed around the hard metal of a fire extinguisher and swung with all his might. Bill swore and ducked at the very last moment, he stumbled over Dwalin's body and Bilbo pressed his advantage. Bracing his hands at either end of the extinguisher, Bilbo charged forward and pinned Bill against the wall.

The man gasped for air, Bilbo smiled and pressed harder as nails and feet lashed out at him. "Not nice is it?" Bilbo breathed dangerously under his breath, baring his teeth and savouring the pain crossing Bill's face and the man turned purple.

"Dwalin you still with me?" Bilbo called over his shoulder, not daring to glance away from the mad man.

"Will take more than a lunatic to kill me! …Bastard, I am getting too old for this shit," Dwalin gasped in pain as he dragged himself across the floor, his arm dragging uselessly behind him; he used the wall to push himself up and swaying heavily, slammed his fist into the fire alarm before slumping with exhaustion.

Red lights and sirens blared to an almost deafening volume. Bilbo could hear the sounds of distant scrambling from above. But he couldn't dwell on this small victory.

The lights cut and the room was plunged into darkness and silence fell. Behind him Bilbo heard Dwalin swear but didn't dare turn as Bill started to shake with laughter.

_"You think you've won. You think your safe. But now is when the real fun begins. You're all going to die," _Tom giggled in a sing song voice, his words held no warmth only vicious and blood thirsty intent.

Bilbo felt something snap inside of him. He pressed his full with against the fire extinguisher and leaned forward so that their noses were almost touching.

"Don't you ever even think of coming near my friends again, you bastard!" Bilbo growled menacingly, filling every word with as much hate as he could. Bill opened his mouth to reply but Bilbo snapped his head back and slammed it forward, delivering an almost fatal head butt.

In a spurt of blood, Bill fell as Bilbo dropped the extinguished, his nose smashed and knocked out cold. Bilbo stood over the body, giving Bill a kick in the bollocks for good measure before turning to where he thought Dwalin was stood.

"We need to find Thorin,"

* * *

Hey, just a quick word.

1. thankyou for reading and reviewing, it does mean a lot to me.I hope to get this story finished by this time next week because I am off to uni and doubt I will have time to finish it then.

2. Cookie for anyone who saw the Sherlock reference

3. Bill, Bert and Tom do have a genuis mental disorder but for the life of me I can't remember it. Anyone help with diagnosis

4. McLif is based on one of my OC's who makes appearances in Fateful Past and LPHD.

p.s. Dwalin is my favourite but should he survive, I shall let you be the judges


	11. Chapter 11

Hey guys, so this is it. I apologise about the length but Epic was requested and I brought it big time! This is a Frankenstein's monster. Think Battle of Five Armies on crack merged with 300, attack the block, shaun of the dead and Olympus has fallen.

* * *

Monday 24th November- 9:36am

It was raining heavily and the car park was bleak. It was always bleak. Bleak and dull.

His domain.

Sitting on the throne he could look down on his subjects and pity them. Tiny pathetic creatures, they knew nothing of the world or anything in it. They got up, argued with their spouse, went to work and lived another day breathing in the stale oxygen of life.

"Ants," he whispered, his breath fogging up the glass slightly.

They would never be anything but lowly ants to him, mindless working creatures who couldn't see the complexity of life and the diverseness of the human condition.

It sickened him but the poor mighty creature that he was almost envied the Worker Ants in their ability to be ignorant.

"How small they are," he sighed heavily turning away from the window and shrugging off his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair.

The dark world of crime and death had engulfed him as a boy. Animals feared him, his mother hid the kitchen knives and his father drank scotch by the bottle. Later Father had been blamed for the house fire which killed his parents. Social workers said mental illness ran in the family after his elderly Aunt and guardian had used drain cleaner as mouth wash, though the lack of suicide note was a puzzling problem for the police at the time.

The freedom that money and coming of age gave him was short lived. Drugs and alcohol were fine for the average human but he was so much more.

In a dim corner of a bar just outside of Moscow on a bitterly cold night in January, he came upon his purpose in life. Within the bar a name had been whispered in the shadows, a spider at the centre of a vast web pulled strings which threw him into his perfect career choice, showing him his divine calling.

The door shut behind him with a creak and a thud. His shiny shoes reflected the florescent light and the noise of his steady footsteps carried down the hallway.

It was an odd thing. He had risen through the ranks of the criminal underworld, fighting and back stabbing, until one day he found that same spider standing in front of him with his gun against the man's temple.

"Look at you. I knew you'd be big but then so many others are. You've got this far, why not finish the job?" The Spider had smirked gleefully, pushing his forehead against the barrel of the gun.

"You want me to kill you?"

"It is the natural order of things. It is the way things are done. We make our own demons Boy, and all demons catch up with us one day. It sets us apart from the angels. They may hunt us but it's our own demons that kill us in the end,"

"Then I shall be both." He squeezed the trigger and in a spray of scarlet mist, which caught on the wind and blew over the rooftops of Canary Wharf, he watched as his path was laid bare before him.

The elevator dinged and he stepped into the metal cube and tapping his foot lightly to the song that was playing through the speaker system. Readjusting his tie in the mirror, he stepped out and walked towards the custody desk.

"Morning sir," the custody officer had said politely, jumping to his feet and nervously trying to flatten his hair.

The man paused for a few seconds, pulling back the sleeve of his suit to check his watch. Satisfied he turned to the officer behind the desk.

"Good morning," he smiled, retracting his 44 Magnum from within his jacket and blowing the man's head off at the neck. The officer's body slammed back into his desk chair and wheeled itself back into the office out of sight, the man's headless body slumping like it had been a few minutes ago.

Sighing contently, he replaced the gun.

Suddenly deafening droning sirens filled the air and red flashing lights made his eyes sting. Deep within the building he heard shouts and the desperate scramble of feet.

"Sir, what's going on?!" Someone asked him as the entire of Scotland Yard started spilling from their offices and filing down the staircases.

"Don't ask stupid questions! Go to the rendezvous and await further instruction!" he bellowed, ushering people through the main doors and then retreating quickly into the shadows as the lights went out.

The cells and interview rooms in the bowels of Scotland Yard were a maze at the best of times, for anyone else it would have been impossible to navigate in the dark. But, then he wasn't just anyone.

Expert and precise, he moved through the abyss of shadows, savouring the noises of anguish from above and the cold shiver of adrenaline through his veins.

The sound of breathing halted his steps.

"Has all gone to plan?" He asked forcefully, his spine tightening as the albino moved to stand behind him, his hot breath brushing unpleasantly against his neck.

"All electronics systems are down and so is the backup generator," the albino reported.

"And what of communications?"

The albino faltered and he heard a faint shuffle of feet, "The Huggins' haven't cut the communication tower or the underground telecom wires."

He steepled his fingers, tucking them under his chin, he smiled and marched down the corridor with the albino following at his heels.

Most refreshing, Baggins had finally shown he was worth killing.

"Get it open. Then go see to the telecom tower yourself. I want all signals blocked," He ordered flatly when he halted at Interview Room One.

Throwing his shoulder at the door, the albino landed in a sprawled heap on the floor as the door burst off its hinges in a cloud of dust. He stepped over the albino's body with indifference and eyed the Go Lem balefully.

The pale man's clammy hands were clamped round the DCI's nose and mouth with feet pressing down on the detective's chest. His smile was broad and gleeful, madness flashed in his eyes as he whispered sweet nothings under his breath.

"Go Lem! That is enough; we have had a change of plan. The Huggins are down," He barked loudly, making the little man jump, making a low hissing noise in the back of his throat.

"Boss said enough, you mad bastard!" The albino growled lumbering to his feet and taking a surly step towards the Go Lem.

_Save me from the idiocy of henchmen_, the man thought as the albino and Go Lem began to squabble over DCI Oak's unconscious body.

With more hissing Go Lem slunk away to wait impatiently at his boss's side, the albino roughly hefted the DCI onto his shoulder and awaited instruction.

"If Baggins as' killed the Huggins boys, how are you gonna get the code back?" Go Lem asked quizzically, peering up at his boss.

"The spider shall lure the fly," he breathed shallowly, excitement of the chase catching in his chest as he pulled a pen and paper from the inside pocket of his blazer and began to pen a note.

Setting it on the table top, he made for the door and gestured for his henchmen to follow behind. The group disappeared into darkness but his words echoed around the now empty Interview Room One.

"Baggins is our fly and without him it wouldn't be a _chiamata alla ribalta finale_,"

*0*

Bilbo's breathing faltered and his stomach turned to lead in his gut. Running ahead along the corridor to Interview Room One Bilbo stared blankly at the empty cell and using the light of his watch, reread the note that lay on the table. There was a small puddle of blood which dripped off the corner of the table and onto the floor.

_Mr Baggins, _

_I cordially invite you to a gathering in basement C. Come alone and bring the USB. In return the DCI will remain unharmed._

_Decline my request and I will hang the Detective from the roof by his entrails. _

_Yours Sincerely, _

_RD_

Bilbo felt numb and that was the honest truth. He was cold…yes, cold would be the only way to describe the vast emptiness that swept through his muscles. It was as if he had been plunged into freezing water, the air had been punched out of his lungs and his throat seemed to contract around his heart.

Numb.

Cold.

Alone again.

No comfort to think of, no warmth or kindness to hide behind. It was Bilbo who faced his nightmares alone. And alone he walked. Back down the corridor, he knocked on Interview Room Two and quickly he ducked inside.

"Did you find him?" Dwalin asked harshly. His lined face was a dusty grey by the light of his phones LED screen.

No signal. The internal phones lines were down and the mobile phone signals were being blocked. Basically they were up a creak without a fucking paddle.

Bilbo shook his head and tugged his fleece over the top of his head. Dragging his fingers through his messy curls, Bilbo moved to Dwalin's side, bunching the jumper up, pressed it against Dwalin's ruined shoulder.

The Detective was in a bad way. Bilbo had seen enough emergency ambulance shows to know that he needed immediate medical care or he risked bleeding out and infection. But then Dwalin was the biggest and most stubborn person Bilbo had ever met. Even if he was in pain, he grinned and bared it.

Watching Dwalin grimly take his administrations Bilbo made his mind up. He took a step back from where Dwalin rested on the floor, his bloody shoulder smearing on the wall behind him.

Bilbo took two steps back. "The room was empty and I saw no one in the halls," Bilbo stated his voice deadpan. Dwalin swore but Bilbo ploughed onwards, taking yet another step to the door. "I am going to help. If you stay here when I can I'll send someone to find you."

"Baggins what the hell game do you think you are playing. You will stay where I tell you for fuck sake!" Dwalin growled fiercely, trying to keep his voice low in case he drew attention towards their position.

"I can set this right Dwalin. All of it," Bilbo pleaded, his voice trembling slightly as his hand wrapped around the door knob. Dwalin panted with pain as he sat himself up and glared dangerously.

"Don't be a fool Baggins. You are a civilian. Whatever fucking half arsed plan you've dreamed up, it won't work. Don't be an idiot."

Bilbo watched his feet for a few seconds before sighing deeply and pulling open the door to the dark hallway beyond. "I haven't been a civilian for a long time, Dwalin. Ever since I met Bert and began to fear for my life, I am not the accountant I once was. I understand my part in this. And I am the only one who can stop this madness. "

The thud of the door was deafening in Bilbo's ear as he marched into darkness.

*0*

His head pounded. No, it hammered. Pain drilled into his temple and his throat was nails being dragged against sandpaper.

The floor tilted dangerously and his head span. Thorin's mouth tasted like stale vomit. Sighing painfully he tried to wipe away dried blood from his chin but with uncomfortable twist of his muscles he discovered his arms were tied. In fact his chest, arms and ankles were laced with thick green rope and wrapped around a strong wooden chair.

"Fuck," Thorin moaned as his head lolled forward and pain exploded behind his eyes.

He had concussion and his brain was probably bleeding. Fuck.

"Your Detective is awake boss," a deep voice to his right said. Male, baritone so most like a large man with native Russian judging by accent.

Thorin's head was snapped back by a vicous yank of his hair. He let out an involuntary hiss of pain as he blinked at the harsh light that was shoved into his face. Thorin could hear shallow breathing but the harsh light made his eyes water making it impossible to see anything.

"Oh my old friend, how the mighty have fallen," a snide voice laughed in his ear. Thorin tried to turn but his head was held in place.

Imprisonment and torture were common place in the army and as such Thorin had received survival training. But the reality was so much more terrifying than Thorin had ever truly imagined. Dying he could deal with, it was his job, whether it was soldier or Detective, but having to lie with the knowledge that information forced from your mind was horrifying. Not because of the pain that would no doubt be inflicted but, if you did survive, living with the knowledge that your information would be used against your comrades.

Thorin sucked in a steadying and deep breath to try and clear his head. He swallowed experimentally to clear his throat but found he was too parched to make saliva.

"It seems you have me at more disadvantages than one. I do not believe we have met before," Thorin rasped, his voice hoarse but his tone firm and taunting.

Suddenly there was a mechanical whirl and buzzing in front of him. Thorin flinched and shielded his eyes against the florid LED screens which sprung to life in front of him. Dozens of computer screens piled high on top of each other, booted into life, their monitors awash with endless streams of numbers.

Standing in front of the computer screens were two figures. One was large, taller and broader than Dwalin; the albino man stared hungrily at Thorin and curled his upper lip. His thick pale arms were like coiled knots of rope and his shoulders bunched around the nape of his neck. Thorin noted two knives strapped to the albino's belt, one a thick hunting knife and the other an old fashioned cut throat razor. With a sickening wash of clarity, Thorin remembered the cross cut into Bilbo's neck.

Before Thorin could study him the other man stepped forward, he stopped in front of him and watched him carefully through dead eyes. He was tall and thin, his sharp cheek bones pressed against his skin and the overhead light caught in his grey curls, casting long shadows down his hollow cheeks.

"You," Thorin heard himself breathe as his brain refused to make sense of what he was seeing.

"DCI Oak, I do hope this won't be mentioned in your paper work,"

"Chief Inspector Scale,"

*0*

His lungs burned and Bilbo's legs ached but he finally- mercifully, made it up the final staircase to Thorin's office. It was empty, the lights were out but morning light streamed through the emergency shutters that covered the windows.

Gulping down a cup of water from the water cooler by the door, Bilbo dragged himself towards Thorin's office. It was just as he had left it not an hour ago. Quickly dragging open the draws and digging through Thorin's desk, Bilbo found what he was looking for. His fingers closed around the USB pumpkin, and grinning determinedly, Bilbo marched to the door.

But on the threshold his foot hovered in mid-air.

_ "Don't be an idiot."_ Dwalin's voice echoed in the back of his mind making Bilbo pause. Slowly he turned and scanned his eyes about the small office.

If he was going to do this, they were going to play by his terms.

*0*

He was losing too much blood too quickly.

Arterial blood congealed and soaked through Bilbo's jumper that Dwalin had wrapped around his shoulder. At first it had staunched the bleeding but as he dragged himself down seemingly endless corridors a thick wet trail of blood was left in his wake.

"I am too old for this shit," Dwalin ground out through his teeth as he fell on his knees at the entrance to the forensics lab. Sat at the very bottom of the building the forensics lab was the only place that had the medical supplies he needed.

Smearing blood over the glass door and handle Dwalin heaved himself forward once more, and using the tables covered with microscopes and petri dishes to hold himself, Dwalin stumbled over to a selection of cupboards.

He needed gauze and bandages and morphine and antiseptic and …Fuck.

His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Dwalin tried to hold the edge of the counter but his hands had no strength in them. Too late, he was too late for Bilbo, too late for Thorin and too late for himself. Fuck.

His eyesight swam and Dwalin felt sleepy. Taking in a deep resigned sigh Dwalin rested his head back against the cupboard.

"What a fucking stupid way to die," Dwalin grumbled softly, he let his brain begin to drift and closed his eyes.

"Whose there? I warn you I am armed," a tentative voice called from far across the lab. Dwalin's eyes snapped open and for half a second he thought it was an angel, but no, it was just Bofur.

"Don't be an arse! You couldn't hurt a butterfly with a net. Now Bofur, do you want to stand fannying about or are you going to help me!?" Dwalin snapped harshly, pain clouding relief in his voice.

On the edge of his fuzzy vision three figures appeared in a scurry of frantic footsteps and someone let out a loud curse. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?" Fili asked, quickly grabbing a handful of gauze that Bofur pushed into his arms.

"Quiet lad, you don't know whose out there," Dwalin replied grimly, clenching his teeth as Fili, Kili and Bofur helped him on to a table that had been hastily cleared.

"So, it's not a drill. Scotland Yard is under attack. We are under lock down," Kili said darkly, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I knew it! I just freaking knew it! Didn't I tell ya. The forensics staff are always notified when there's a drill so that none of our experiments spoil. If it had been a fire or something the temperature gauges would have caught it but no, not a word," Bofur chirped happily as he began to peel away Bilbo's sodden fleece and cut apart Dwalin's shirt.

"Yes, we know, we heard you the first dozen times. Hell, maybe we were unlucky getting stuck down here with you," Kili smirked arching his eyebrow at Bofur.

"So then what the hell is going on?" Fili asked sternly. He was stood a few feet away; he stared into the blank screen of the CCTV camera footage on Bofur's computer. Tension radiated from the young officer and his spine was held tight.

"That Huggins guy I was interviewing got a gun through reception but that is only a small part of the bigger picture-,"

"Keep still!" Bofur snapped.

"Ah! Are you qualified to do that?!" Dwalin snapped as Bofur began to probe at him with tweezers.

"I may not be Doris when I comes to a nice gooey corpse but I am certainly better qualified than Pinky and Perky over there," Bofur smirked pointing at Kili and Fili with bloody tweezers before swapping them for a pair of forceps.

"Be that as it may we cannot just sit here all day while Scotland Yard – home of the British police force – gets ripped to bloody shreds!" Fili shouted as he began to pace up and down the lab.

Suddenly Kili made a squeaking noise and his head snapped towards Bofur.

"How are those computers still operating if the powers been cut?" Kili asked excitedly, striding forward and grabbing Bofur by either side of his beanie hat.

"Our machines are part of a surge protection system. They have an energy delay which stores the electricity from lightning strikes to the communications tower on the roof," Bofur said slowly, a broad smile curling on his lips as understanding dawned.

"Then I don't have a lot of time!" Kili exclaimed as he actually leaped across the lab, slid in front of a computer on a wheelie chair and began to type so fast that his fingers were a blur.

*0*

The corridor was black. Lined with long pipes and thick coils of wire the service tunnel was light with a thin line of fluorescent tape which ran along the concrete floor. It did little to penetrate the consuming darkness living Bilbo to tentatively feel his way along the cold wall. Somewhere in the far distance Bilbo could hear water dripping from a pipe and the tall tale sound of rats scuttling past his feet.

Idiot Baggins! You should never have got yourself into this mess. It was none of your business. You are only an accountant for fuck sake!

The mantra played round and round in Bilbo's head yet still he made his feet move. And to tell you the truth, he didn't know why. Was it an innate want to set things right? Or finish something that he had started? Or maybe Bilbo couldn't, in good conscience, leave a friend only in the darkness.

Using the LED screen of his phone Bilbo searched for the door leading down to basement C. Two iron doors blocked his path. One was padlocked and was labelled "Boiler Room". The other, the door in the right, stood ajar and in big bold red letters said "Basement C."

Taking a deep breath Bilbo stepped forward. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he squeezed himself through the gap and felt around. The darkness was worse in here. Cold air made Bilbo's chest hitch and his nose sting. Dust and copper hung on the air like the utter and complete silence that surrounded him.

Hands reaching out he found the top of a metal bannister, carefully edging the toe of his boot forward Bilbo took the first step down the long seemingly endless flight of stairs. He counted to 46 then halted. There was a noise up ahead and a bright flicker of light.

Bilbo held his breath to listen.

"How dare you! You are supposed to protect the innocent, you took an oath to uphold the law and yet you turn into …this!" Bilbo would have recognised Thorin's voice anywhere; it was deadly in its anger making a cold shiver run up Bilbo's spine.

There was a humourless laugh from a voice Bilbo did not recognise. "Beautiful isn't it. So simple and so obvious, and yet even the greatest minds in Britain couldn't see. They didn't want to see the puppeteer moving his figures off stage. "

"Why?! Did you enjoy being a traitor to your country, or was it the money and power that came from killing and destroying people's lives!" Thorin growled through his teeth.

"Ah Thorin, you Oaks were a naïve family. Your failing is that you never think of the bigger picture," The man said dismissively.

"Tell me!"

The was a pause. Bilbo carefully stepped forward again, his ears straining to hear.

"Because I enjoyed watching you dance," barely a whisper, Bilbo would have missed it if had not been for his keen hearing.

"So, Thror was just another puppet for you to play with? He was a good man and an even better police officer-,"

"They are all good men! They think they are untouchable, too honest for brides and back handers but let a small temptation fall in front of them and what them jig. Make no illusions of grandeur Thorin Oak, your grandfather was as much a criminal as your common car thief! You are so like him, he got under my skin just as he did. I thought a small car bomb would do the trick but it turns out you are quite hard to kill."

"You lying bastard Scale!" Thorin let out a cry of rage, wood creaked as he strained against the chair.

"I have to hand it to him; Thror did try harder than most to get out of our little arrangement-,"

"And that's we you killed him. Because he wouldn't take dirty money anymore," Thorin spat with revulsion.

"I killed him because it was fun! And because it sent a message to rest of the police force. Red Dragon cannot and will never be brought down!" Scale exclaimed, throwing his head to the ceiling so that his voice echoed through the entire of basement C.

"No it won't. Trying to take down Scotland Yard was a mistake. It's not just a building but an idea. This building is more British than the Queen for fuck sake! Do you really think people will stand by and let you do as you damn well please," Thorin said stonily, cold hate seething through his words.

"They will do what I tell them to do!" Scale let out an insane scream, his manner flashing from cold calm and collected to hysterical in a matter of seconds.

"And I'm sure the population of London would just love that," Thorin smirked sarcastically. The man let out a shallow laugh and Bilbo heard a shuffle of feet and a scrap of wood against concrete. About ten meters away from the staircase a large white light sprang into life, making Bilbo's eyes water and sting. The light was an Apple Tablet which had been connected to other old fashioned monitors, slowly they synced together and with a whirl of mechanics one image was plastered over their shared screens.

The harsh computer light illuminated the basement in a sterilised whiteness. Long shadows sprang from the corners, Bilbo quickly ducked into on and kept himself hidden as the albino and the thin man paced around Thorin.

Bilbo was relieved to see the DCI was tied and bound, but save the nasty looking cut on his forehead, he was well.

"London! Too small, Thorin, you must think bigger," Scale breathed tiredly, his voice growing bored and weary.

Suddenly, from deep within the dark corner of the basement came a voice that Bilbo made tremble with fear.

"Boss, we' has got a visitor. My precious is come to see me, yess' yes he has," Go Lem whispered out of the darkness making Bilbo gasp.

"Take him," Scale said dismissively over his shoulder as he turned and began to type on one of the computers.

"Bilbo, get out of here! Now, that's an order," Thorin shouted desperately once again pulling against his ropes. Without a thought the albino marched forward and slammed his fist into Thorin's face, snapping the detective's head back painfully.

That made all of Bilbo's temper snap.

"That is enough!" he snarled, stepping out from the shadows and facing Thorin and the two men. "You wanted the USB?" from within his pocket Bilbo pulled out the new improved pumpkin USB.

Dwalin was right; he had been an idiot to think he could fix this. But he would certainly do a better job if he had leverage. Copper wires coiled around the USB that was fixed to the base of a torch battery.

"I may be just an accountant but I'm not an idiot! One wrong move and I'll send an electric pulse large enough to fry a cat through the USB and destroy all of your data," Bilbo declared brandishing the device over his head so that they could see.

"Hah! Very very clever, I do like it when people are clever. Baggins, you are a pleasant surprise," Scale laughed, clapping his hands together in a mocking applause.

"So glad that I amuse you," Bilbo snapped. Something flashed out of the corner of his eye, and moving quicker than possible, he wrenched the Taser free from the back of his trousers and fired. Go Lem screamed with agony and fell, writhing on the concrete floor as fifty thousand volts rampaged through his body.

Bilbo enjoyed the pale man's screams and watched as those clammy hands clenched and unclenched in pain.

"Yes! Oh yes! Excellent, Baggins you are special. Its men like you who will have a place by my side when the time comes," manic and wild, Scale's body shivered in excitement.

The man is mad! Bilbo thought as he kicked Go Lem in the head for good measure and turned to carefully watch Scale.

"He wants no part in your crime syndicate!" Thorin snapped spitting a mouthful of blood onto Scale's immaculate suit.

"Oh Thorin, you fool-," Scale smiled apologetically at Thorin as if pitying his simple mind and danced back to the computer screens. "Crime and punishment. The world order since time in memorial ….BLAH BLAH BLAH! BORING! Better yet, the angel-," Scale pointed at Bilbo with a long tapered finger, "- and the demon." He twirled back to Thorin his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Think boys, think really hard. What's the point of having heaven and hell? No one is innocent anymore or pure or good, no one! So let us start a fresh." Scale smiled coldly, moving round Thorin's chair and resting his hands on Thorin's shoulders. "A new world order. Born from the ruins of the old and crowned with fire. A new age where there is no good or bad, only power. A power of a person and their ability to take what they want!"

Scale leapt across the room and extended his arms lovingly to the computers screens, his cold eyes alight with fluorescent numbers at whizzed across their screens.

"A wannabe Hitler. Fan-fucking- tastic," Thorin sighed derisively and clenched his jaw as, once again, the albino slammed his fist into Thorin's face.

"You're mad! You want to start World War Three and for what?! So you could throw the world into a new dark age!" Bilbo shouted hysterically as his muscles tensed- his body knew it had to escape but he refused to leave Thorin, he wouldn't! He had one Taser cartridge left and it had Scale's name on it.

"Baggins, see the bigger picture. You are the key, you always were the key. In your hand are the encrypted code systems to every nations defence systems," Scale rested his palms against his cheeks in a look of mocking shock. "I'm not going to do a damn thing. The world is going to rip itself apart and I'm going to be the one to catch it when it falls apart. Neat, almost poetic don't you think to use trafficking for not only boring monetary gain but also as a secretive system to transport the access codes-,"

"Warning! Attempt at external to send out external message!" a mechanical voice said over the computer speaker. Scale marched to the computer and began punching the keys viscously.

Bilbo tried to inch towards Thorin but the albino stepped forward and growled, showing his filed down teeth. In retaliation Bilbo shoved the wired USB out in front of him, in an attempt to keep distance between them.

"Oh yes! Isn't this neat. Someone is trying to send out an SOS through our firewall, isn't that just precious, they fear for their lives-," Scale said sickly sweet; he turned and scanned Thorin's face for emotion. The DCI showed none. "Very well, Azog you have some friends waiting down there, shall we send them some company?"

The albino's thin lips pulled into a tight smile as he turned back to the computers, snatching up a walkie talkie as he did so. He turned to watch Bilbo's eyes widen in horror as Azog spoke into the phone.

"Open all cells. Release the wold pack."

Thorin was too stunned to say anything. Why had he been so blind! Two days ago the cells had almost been empty and now they were crammed to the rafters with Scale's fucking henchman. Whoever was still in the building would be ripped apart. Thorin wanted to scream and rage but a part of him already knew it was too late.

"No! Please, we had an arrangement. Just let me have Thorin and-," Bilbo's harried cries were quickly silenced by Scale.

"Yes Azog, that was quite impolite. You must always give people five minutes' notice before you have them murdered." Scale reprimanded his henchman and swung on a wheelie chair, and began typing a message in large bold letters so that Thorin and Bilbo could see.

**YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE. YOU CANNOT RUN OR HIDE. MY WOLVES WILL FIND YOU. PRAY THEY KILL YOU QUICKLY. **

***0***

Kili's fingers were a blur as they moved over the keyboard.

"If we are very very lucky, whoever has taken control of the tower may have been lazy when applying the firewall but then who knows they may have a hidden encryption under the original algorithm that I can't see or the main frame of the internal LAN-."

"In English if you please Kili," Dwalin said tightly as Bofur began to tightly fix bandages around his shoulder. He couldn't move his arm and with no pain killers it was still agony but Dwalin's had stopped bleeding and he could stand without fainting. Small mercies and all that.

"Basically, if I can hack their firewall I can get an SOS message to the outside world," Kili stated through ground teeth and he slammed his finger down on the enter button. "If we are lucky they won't expect people down here and therefore the firewall will be weak."

"But isn't that a bit risky?" Fili asked coming to stand by his brother's side.

"Only time will tell I suppose," Bofur sighed tensely as he started to bundle up gauze. Actually it only took 1 minute for the message to be alerted.

**"YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE. YOU CANNOT RUN OR HIDE. MY WOLVES WILL FIND YOU. PRAY THEY KILL YOU QUICKLY."**

The message flashed on the screen as alarms and sirens blared out. As the entire group stared in horror at the message a skull and cross bones flashed on screen and began to cackle at them.

"Fuck!" they all swore in unison.

"What do we do know?" Fili asked frantically looking at Dwalin for guidance.

"Guys-,"

"What do they mean 'wolves'?" Bofur asked.

"Guys-,"

"They're bluffin'-,"Dwalin replied assuredly.

"Oi! Will you freaking look!" Kili shouted at the group pointing at the CCTV screen on one of the computers. Whoever was controlling Scotland Yard had allowed them a view of the cells. Twenty cells with four inmates in each were now spilling free; armed with guns, knives and various other weapons. They were hunting and they police were the hunted.

"We have to move," Dwalin's command needed no argument. Grabbing a few medical supplies, Fili looped his arm around Dwalin's waist as the small group headed to the upper levels. The roof was now their only option. From the roof they could maybe catch a single or attract help. It was a long shot but what other choice sis they now have.

As they mounted the stairs they could hear distant woops and war cries from the Wolf pack. On the fifth level Dwalin pulled them to a halt and raised his hands for silence. They waited and listened intently. Footsteps and panting coming towards them down the stairs.

"How did they lap us?" Bofur whispered but Dwalin silence him. Taking charge the DI pushed the group just round the stairwell and prepared to charge. Injury be damned, if he was going down he was going down fighting.

The seconds ticked by agonisingly slowly. The panted breathes got louder and the footsteps more hurried. Dwalin counted three pairs of heat, one slightly smaller than the others, he hoped they weren't armed.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Dwalin charged and tackled the largest round the middle, dragging him to the ground.

"Dwalin wait!" Kili exclaimed as Dwalin began to punch frantically at the man's face. He looked round to find four pairs of startled eyes watching him.

"What the fucking hell do you think you're doing!? You almost broke my nose you bastard!" Dori shouted, grabbing his collar and throwing Dwalin's body off him.

"What am I doing? Doris, what are you doing you mean?" Dwalin asked angrily, he jumped to his feet ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder.

"Did you see the message? They've emptied the bloody cells," Nori said grimly, running a hand through his spiky hair.

"Cause' we saw the message we're heading to the roof," Kili said frantically checking over his shoulder as something downstairs exploded.

"No good, they've men stationed on the main roof doors. There armed, cut us all fucking down like daisies," Dori stated flatly but his face turning white. Dwalin noted a few spots of blood on the doctor's collar.

"How many did you lose?"

There was a pause when Ori spoke. " Seven. They're dead and there's nothing we can do. We can't stop them but we can go down guns blazing."

"What did you have in mind?" Dwalin asked, smiling despite himself at the young officer's gumption.

Ori smiled back. "No time to explain!" He grinned before leaping down the stairs and disappearing through the adjoining door to level 3.

"I remember when he wanted to be a postman," Nori breathed and their small group darted after him.

It didn't take much effort for Fili and Dori to kick down the door to Evidence Room 4. It was basically a dark and dingy cupboard, and with no lighting it was completely black but Ori went straight into the room. Five minutes later he returned with his arms full.

"Care to explain," Kili asked intrigued as Ori's handed him a riot helmet and shield.

After making the group don stab vests, helmets and shields Ori pulled out a small box from the evidence room. After keying in a code the box sprung open to reveal what looked like four lumps of clay.

"Fucking hell!" Kili exclaimed quickly trying to drag Fili back a step.

"This is C4. Don't worry it's harmless until I've put a charger on it," Ori began explained.

"Our little brother, mastermind extraudinary, had the brilliant idea of offence is a good defence," Dori said sarcastically shooting Ori a dangerous look.

"Pardon?" Dwalin asked as if he was missing something.

"We charge the lower levels and make as much confusion as possible until we get a chance to blow the front doors. We may die but we also may live." Ori explained, a broad grin growing across his young face.

"That's suicide!" Fili gasped shaking his head and looking doubtful at the riot helmet. Riot gear may protect from a few knock and scrapes but probably not a whole load of debris blown apart by a few bricks of C4.

"That's chess lad', we have certainly have the element of surprise. And I prefer this plan to waiting around to be murdered," Dwalin nodded, tightening the scrap of the helmet under his chin and slapping the front of his stab vest.

The young brother's shared a long look before they both nodded and began pulling on their armour.

"If Thorin knew what we were going to do he would kill us!" Kili smirked eyeing the C4.

"I'm pretty sure he has his own problems to deal with right now,"

*0*

"You've had your fun. Now, hand Thorin over!" Bilbo demanded his voice barely keeping steady as his body began to tremble.

"Bilbo, you are too trusting by far. I was never going to let either of you just walk out of here, you must understand this," Scale stated in a bored tone as he continued to stare at the endless streams of numbers running down the computer screens.

Panic rose wildly in Bilbo, his blood hammered in his ears and cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He looked to Thorin but the Detectives eyes were glued to Bilbo's chest. He didn't dare to look down for he already knew what he would see.

Resting over his heart was a small red dot.

"Computerised sniper system. Quite illegal but very effective." Scale noted still not looking over his shoulder.

Bilbo's heart skipped a beat.

He watched Thorin brilliant blue eyes turn toward his face. Those eyes, so warm and comforting, now filled with fear and regret. Turning away, Bilbo blinked back a tear, and then clenched his fists with determination.

"Then I'll destroy the USB, I'll deprive the world of your new order!"

Scale turned slowly on his chair to face Bilbo. All resemblance of normality had gone. His hair was wild with grey curls and his eyes held coldness, occasionally glinting with insanity. His lips thinned as he met Bilbo's eyes. "Such a pity. You had so much promise. Now I'm afraid I'll just have to make you hand it over,"

"Kill me! Do whatever you want, I don't care. He'll never give you that USB, Bilbo will get out of here," Thorin growled staring pointedly at Bilbo.

"It doesn't matter that you don't care but you see Thorin, he does." Scale smiled sweetly at Thorin then turned to Azog. "Kill the Go Lem."

Without a second thought Azog marched over to Go Lem's unconscious body and shot the man twice in the head. The shots rang out, no body moved.

Bilbo didn't know what to feel. Blankly, he stared back at Scale.

"Now you see I'm serious, Azog, if you please," Scale said coolly. With a wave of his hand, Scale gestured to Thorin and Azog complied. The albino stood in front of Thorin, checked the barrel of his gun, and then began to raise it.

"No! Use the straight razor. He is a detective after all!" Scale called, chiding gently.

With slowly, almost sensually movements, Azog pulled the straight razor from his belt. Thorin tried to pull away as Azog placed his hands round his neck but he was held in place by his dark hair. The shining blade glinted in the computer light and touched the pale skin of Thorin's neck. One single line of scarlet blood pooled and slowly dripped into the collar of Thorin's shirt.

"Make your choice Bilbo Baggins,"

*0*

The Company paused and waited. Their heat beats almost synchronised as they waited for the most opportune moment to strike. The journey down the building had been relatively uneventful. If of course, you don't include the gang waving machetes about or the lunatic running about with the flame thrower.

They had slowly, carefully made their way down the building. Armed with nothing more than shields, batons and a pair of fire extinguishers, they were now facing the main force of the Wolf pack. Twelve surly convicts armed with assault weapons stood milling around the barricaded glass doors to Scotland Yard.

Stood in a wedge formation they stood and waited. Waited for the opportune moment, but mainly they stood savouring their last moments, or they knew that when they burst through those doors they would most likely not live much longer.

"Lads, we move and we move fast. Don't break away. And whatever you do keep Ori covered while he's planted the fuses-," Dwalin commanded nodding to each of the Company. Fili shook Kili's shoulder reassuringly, Nori smiled proudly at his younger brother and Bofur pulled off his beanie hat from under his riot helmet and handed it to Dwalin to keep safe. Dwalin smiled as he stuffed the hat inside his stab vest then turned and kicked the door open.

All hell broke loose.

*0*

"_Make your choice,"_

Bilbo's mind froze. All systems stopped and the internal gears shuddered and halted. The knife pressed down on Thorin's Adam's apple, a sniper rifle was aimed at his heart and he held the key to the free world in his hand. He knew what he had to do but doing it was something else entirely.

He took a step forward. One boot at a time, he inched closer to Scale.

"Bilbo, no," Thorin hissed as he tried to wriggle from Azog, but with his arms tied Thorin only succeeded in driving the straight razor further against his skin. Bilbo locked eyes with Detective and refused to look away, even as he approached Scale.

"Just trust me DCI Oak, it's what our friend Gandalf would have wanted," Bilbo pleaded in his mind for Thorin to understand his hidden meaning but before he could find out the world exploded.

Bilbo was tossed into the air like a penny and thrown straight into the opposite wall, air was punched out of his lungs and as he gasped he was engulfed in water. Cold and savage the gushing torrent pinned him in place by such an impenetrable force that Bilbo had to dive under the rising level of water to free himself of the current.

In the corner of his eyes he could see the Go Lem's corpse floating face down against the corner wall.

Sucking air into his starved lungs, Bilbo came gasping and choking to the service. He swam wildly around searching in the darkness behind the wild crash of waves and sound of explosions for Thorin's voice. At the far end Bilbo could just make out the flicker of computer screens, so he swam, he swam against the seemingly unstoppable current to reach Thorin. Before he even knew what he was doing Bilbo dived down, into the blackness of the murky water, he hands reaching out.

First there was a brush of hair, then a muscled shoulder and then a struggling body almost a meter under the rising water line. Blindly he humbled, his fingers seeking wildly for the knot until his lungs burned for air. Kicking off the floor Bilbo rose to the service, sucked in a lungful of air and dived again. He tugged and pulled until the skin of his fingers bleed but then something gave and He dragged Thorin to the service. Wearily the detective held on, his muscles too starved of oxygen to work, the only thing Thorin could concentrate on was the ringing in his ears and the oxygen in his lungs.

"Baggins!" Azog roared his red eyes glinting in the darkness as Bilbo struggled to keep Thorin exhausted body afloat. Using all him might Bilbo dragged Thorin towards a disused cabinet and haled his body on top.

Bilbo kicked off the cabinet and swam just out of reaching distant of Azog. Thorin was dead if Azog got to him, he needed time to get some air into his lungs and time was Bilbo's gift to him.

"It's over. The authorities cannot ignore an explosion. Whatever you did, you've most certainly drawn attention to yourselves," Bilbo laughed in Azog's face, causing the Albino to snarl and lash out at Bilbo in frustration. Bilbo dived away but quickly resurfaced and coniueted to swim around in circles.

Some of the remaining computers flickered to life, sending long eerie shards of translucent colour dancing off the tops of the waves. The bank of light was block momentarily by one tall thin figure rising from the water and standing with his back to the light.

"You are outstanding. Truly Bilbo, I don't know how someone so naïve as you could have engineered such a feet but I must say you astound me. It really is a pity you must die." Scale smiled slowly and without feeling, it was him simple pulling his lips over his teeth which sent shivers across Bilbo's skin.

"I don't have anything to do with the explosion but you must see its over, Scale, you have lost," Bilbo called trying to make his voice sound stronger than he felt. Scale laughed.

"Yes, I suppose you have won, if you can call this a victory, but that doesn't mean you shall survive. Azog drowned him," Scale commanded almost regretfully as he turned away and disappeared into the darkness forever.

The albino advanced on Bilbo, wading through the water and parting the waves with his coiled muscles and thick limbs. Bilbo readied himself to dive away but suddenly a blur collided with Azog and his disappeared under the water.

Thorin had moved faster than Bilbo could see. One moment he had been almost unconscious and then three words cut through the fogginess of his oxygen starved mind. _"Azog drowned him."_ A fire awoke and burned in Thorin's chest. Strength seemed to return to Thorin's muscles as he slammed his fist repeatedly into Azog's gut.

The two men rolled and wrestled under the dark murky water until a surge of water broke them apart. Kicking himself to the service Thorin gasped for air and swept his soaking hair out of his eyes. Azog's pale head surged through the water and he rose eyes glinting and his fingers curled around the silver straight razor.

"Fuck," Thorin breathed as the giant albino surged towards him, the knife winking in the fading LED light.

"Thorin here!" Bilbo cried desperately grabbing the back of Thorin's collar and hauling him up and out of the water. Scrabbling onto of a crate Thorin turned to watch Azog's approach.

"I will kill you first Detective, then I will kill your little friend," Azog whispered darkly, lowering the razor so that its blade cut through the water. Before he knew what he was doing Bilbo stood and met Azog's hungry stare.

"See you in hell." Bilbo raised the Taser and Azog screamed as electricity surged through his body. For a few seconds Bilbo's saw sparks dancing of metal fillings in Azog's mouth and the smell of burning hair filled his nose. Thorin grabbed and pulled Bilbo's face into his wet chest as computer screens imploded in an ear shattering blast. Shards of glass and sparks filling the air with blinding light, scorching Bilbo's hair and skin.

I couldn't tell you if it was five or ten minutes, but the pair clung to each other like a port storm, and surrounded by metres of lashing water, I suppose that what they were to each other- Ports of comfort.

Tentatively pulling back from Thorin's chest Bilbo looked about, it was quiet almost too quiet. He looked up and smiled.

"Thorin-," Bilbo whispered tapping Thorin's arm and pointing upwards. Part of the roof had been blown off the basement and part of the wall to Boiler Room next door had been blown in. But up, up past the bits of glass and pavement, up past the gathering ambulances and helicopters the midday sun was out and it was a glorious day.

Bilbo smiled as he tapped his head against Thorin's jaw. "I'm pretty sure we died but I'm not complaining."

Just then Dwalin poked his head over the whole in the pavement and glared down at them. "Where the fuck have you been!?"

"Guess we spoke too soon," Thorin smirked as he pulled Bilbo and him to their feet.

*0*

Bilbo's head was pounding. Not because of his numerous near death experiences or close encounter with actual super villain. No it was because he was sat in the back of an ambulance with dozens of people talking **_at _**him.

It was enough to make a man run screaming for his life, red shock blanket trailing behind him.

"I could get them to give you some morphine if you like." Bilbo looked up from his hands to see Thorin standing in front of him. His head had been stitched up and his hand was wrapped in a bandage but apart from a thick layer of bruises around his eyes, the detective was perfectly fine. IN fact, with damp hair curling around his jaw, he looked certainly better than fine.

Bilbo tried to pat down his hair. "Morphine. Got anything stronger. How are your friends?"

"Alive. Though you can never be sure with Ori, lad hardly says a word," The two men laughed for a bit but it was awkward and uneasy. Bilbo chose to cut to the question they both wanted to ask.

"How's the case?"

Thorin shook his head. "But I still have no proof. Scale might as well be dead for as much good it does Thror. He will go free. Probably deep in the criminal underworld somewhere causing more suffering and hurt. "

Suddenly he felt like an absolute idiot. Blushing from head to toe, he lifted his shirt and ripped of the package he had taped there. Pressing the stop button Bilbo the handed the plastic covered Dictaphone to Thorin and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I saw an episode of CSI where one of the team did that, I thought it was a good idea at the time but I don't know how much it would have picked up," Bilbo floundered stammering over his words.

Thorin was silent for a long time. He studied the silently warm package in his hands, turning it over as he tried to think of words that would truly show his gratitude. He couldn't.

"Remind me never again to underestimate an accountant. Are they all so wonderful or is it just the ones who topple worldwide crime syndicates and would be tyrants?" Thorin smirked and shook his head in disbelief, sighing deeply as studied the Dictaphone again.

"You'll be surprised how fast I can power through a tax return." They bother laughed easily. Bilbo felt a warm flighty feeling pool in his stomach, but he pushed into the back of his mind putting it down to hunger.

"Bilbo, I would really love to-," Thorin began but a young uniformed officer appeared by his elbow and pushed a mobile into his hands. He smiled at Bilbo apologetically and turned away.

"DCI Oak…Where!? Send a squad, proceed caution, I'll be there as soon as I can," Thorin stated sharply down the phone before passing it back to the PC. "There's been a sighting of Scale-,"

"Than what are you waiting for you daft git! Go!" Bilbo shooed him away and watched as his figure turned and started to make its way through the crowd.

A hollow pain started in Bilbo's chest as he slumped down and pulled the shock blanket tighter around his shoulders. He shivered with cold when a large dull weight fell against him and slammed their forehead into his.

"Ow! Sorry Bilbo…You like Chinese, right?" Thorin's face was red and he was panting as if he had sprinted all the way across the car pack. In fact he had as Dwalin was watching him from their abandoned police car with an expression that was a mix of dismay and amusement.

"I do like Chinese," Bilbo replied tentatively watching warily for any hint of a joke or miscommunication. But none came, Thorin's eyes dilated around his brilliant blue irises and he took a step back and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"Good, that is good. And sometime, only if you wanted to of course, we could like Chinese together-," Thorin's voice petered off as he became very interested in his shoes.

Bilbo stopped breathing. He didn't whether to laugh or do a back flip in celebration. Instead he let his Baggins caution take over.

Brushing a thick curl from the front of his eyes, Bilbo looked up and smiled.

"That would be… nice."

THE END

* * *

**Hello all, **

**Just a quick hello. **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing. Half way through this I found it really hard to write and it was like getting blood out of a stone. But hey ho we got there in the end. And almost a day before I go to uni so YES on time as well. RESULT. **

**You may care or you may not but my next project I'm working on is a Hobbit crossover AU with His Dark Materials the Philip Pullman book which is basically daemon verse so do keep your eyes peeled. I'm completing it before I publish and its completely non-can, so it'll be fun to read and fun to write. HOPEFULLY. **


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